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“And there on the hill sat a jolly old man, round and fat, with a pipe in his 

mouth and a sack on his back.” 





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SEVEN O’CLOCK 


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ROBERf CORDdN ANDERSON 



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ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR 

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E. BOYD; SMITH 


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/ G.R PUTNAMS SONS \ 
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Copyright, 1920 

BY 

G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS 


NOV 20 1920 ' 



JEAN AND MALCOLM 


TO WHOM THESE STORIES WERE FIRST TOLD 



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CONTENTS 


FIRST NIGHT 

PAGE 

THE THREE HAPPY CHILDREN I 

SECOND NIGHT 

THE PLAYMATES OF THE THREE HAPPY CHILDREN . . 5 

THIRD NIGHT 

NOISY FOLKS 10 

FOURTH NIGHT 

JUST BEFORE SUPPER 1 5 

FIFTH NIGHT 

THE TOYMAN 20 

SIXTH NIGHT 

THE WILLOW WHISTLE 26 

SEVENTH NIGHT 

MR. SCARECROW 30 

EIGHTH NIGHT 

THE PRETTIEST FAIRY STORY IN THE WORLD 37 

NINTH NIGHT 

ANOTHER TRUE FAIRY STORY .... 44 

V 


VI 


Contents 


TENTH NIGHT 

PAGE 

THE HAPPY ENDING OF THE ORIOLE’S STORY . . 52 

ELEVENTH NIGHT 

MOTHER HEN AND ROBBER HAWK 60 

TWELFTH NIGHT 

ABOUT DUCKIE THE STEPCHILD AND THE LITTLE SHIP . 68 

THIRTEENTH NIGHT 

THE TALL ENEMY . ' 83 

FOURTEENTH NIGHT 

THE SLEIGH AND THE TINY REINDEER .... 92 

FIFTEENTH NIGHT 

JACK FROST AND THE MAN-IN-THE-MOON . . . 100 

SIXTEENTH NIGHT 

SLOSHIN’ . 1 15 

SEVENTEENTH NIGHT 

THE CIRCUS COMES TO TOWN 1 27 

EIGHTEENTH NIGHT 

THE JOLLY CLOWN 1 38 

NINETEENTH NIGHT 

WIENERWURST’S BRAVE BATTLE 1 53 

TWENTIETH NIGHT 

THE LIONS OF THE NORTH WIND 1 63 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING PAGE 

“and there on the hill sat a jolly old man, 

ROUND AND FAT, WITH A PIPE IN HIS MOUTH AND 

A sack on his back” . . . Frontispiece 

“the three happy children live in the country” 2 

“ WIENERWURST CAUGHT A PRETTY PIGEON BY ITS 

TAIL AND BIT IT ” . . . . . 6 

“THE DUCKS, THE SWANS, AND THE GEESE ARE VERY 
FOND OF THE POND, BUT THEIR COUSINS THINK 
IT A DREADFUL PLACE” 12 

“ PRIMROSE, DAISY, BUTTERCUP, AND OLD BLACK-EYED 

SUSAN WALKED INTO THE BIG BARN ” . . 1 6 

“ON THE LINE SOMETHING WRIGGLED. IT WAS ROUND 

AND SHINY AND GOLD” 24 

“THE TOYMAN WORKED WITH HIS KNIFE VERY CARE- 
FULLY” 28 

“ ‘THERE, OLD WOODEN TOP,’ THE TOYMAN SPOKE TO 

MR. SCARECROW STERNLY” .... 34 

vii 


viii 


Illustrations 


FACING PAGE 

11 THE THREE HAPPY CHILDREN SET TO WORK WITH 

THE THREE SHINY RAKES ” . . . . 40 

“THE ORIOLES WERE VERY HAPPY BIRDS ” . . 50 

“FATHER AND MOTHER ORIOLE TAUGHT THEM TO FLY ” 56 

“THE EVIL EYE OF ROBBER HAWK LOOKED DOWN AT 

THE FRIGHTENED WHITE WYANDOTTES ” . .64 

“THE WIND FILLED THE SAILS OF THE LITTLE SHIP 

AND OFF SHE WENT ” . . .76 

“ON THROUGH THE SNOW THE TALL ENEMY MARCHED ” 90 

“HITCHED TO THE SLEIGH WERE TWO TINY BROWN 

REINDEER WITH YELLOW HORNS ” . . .98 

“HE HAD ONE FRIEND LEFT, LITTLE WIENERWURST ” . 122 

“THE TIGER LOOKED AT ALL THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE 

WINDOWS AND DOORS ” . . . . . 1 36 

“THE TOYMAN SAW MARMADUKE WAY UP ON THE BACK 

OF THE BIG ELEPHANT” I50 

“ QUICK AS A FLASH THE BIG DOG JUMPED AT LITTLE 

WIENERWURST” . . . . . . l6o 

“ HE WASN’T AFRAID OF ANYTHING WHEN HE WAS SAFE 

IN THE TOYMAN’S ARMS ” 1 66 





I 


SEVEN O’CLOCK STORIES 




/ 


FIRST NIGHT 


THE THREE HAPPY CHILDREN 

Not once upon a time but just now, in a white 
house by the side of a road, live three happy 
children. 

Their mother and father gave them very odd 
names, for two old uncles and one aunt, which 
pleased the old people very much. Their names 
are all written in the big family Bible,— Jehosophat 
Green, Marmaduke Green, and Hepzebiah Green. 

Jehosophat is just seven years old. His birth- 
day comes on Thanksgiving Day this year. It 
does not come on Thanksgiving Day every year, 
of course. See if you can guess why. 

Marmaduke is five, “going on six,” he always 
says. Little Hepzebiah, who toddles after her 
brothers, tells everyone who comes to visit that she 
is “ half-past three.” She heard her brother say this 
once and she imitates all he does and says. Per- 


i 


2 Seven O’Clock Stories 

haps that is why her father calls her a “little 
monkey.” 

These happy children all live in the country. 
They do not know much about elevated trains 
and subways and automobiles and moving pictures 
but they do know a great deal about flowers and 
birds and chestnuts and picnics and lots of things 
which you would like too, if you lived in the country. 

Each place you see has its advantages. All 
good is not found in the country, nor all in the 
city. If we keep both eyes open we will see lots of 
enjoyable and beautiful things wherever we are. 

The house in which Jehosophat and Marmaduke 
and Hepzebiah live is large. It has many rooms 
to sleep in and eat in and play in. It is painted 
white and has wide windows with green blinds. 

Around the house are large trees. The branches 
seem to pat the house lovingly and to protect the 
children when the sun is too hot or the rain comes 
down too fast. 

They are fine for swings and bird-houses, these 
trees, and some throw down acorns and others 
cones and soft pine needles for the children to play 
with. 

Behind the house and gardens are red barns, 



“ The three happy children live in the country.” 






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3 


First Night 

chicken yards— and oh lots of animals,— the three 
dogs, Rover, Brownie, and little yellow Wienerwurst 
and all the rest. You will come to know them 
later. Each has his funny ways and queer tricks 
just like people. Around the house are fields with 
growing plants and oh — we almost forgot the pond 
where Jehosophat and his brother sail boats. 

Mother, that is Mrs. Green, is not too thin nor 
yet too plump. She is just what a mother ought 
to be, with kind, shining eyes, and soft cheeks. 
She is always cooking things or doing things for 
Jehosophat and Marmaduke and little Hepzebiah. 

Father— the neighbours call him Neighbour Green 
—is very strong. He can lift big weights and 
manage bad horses. He can do lots of work and 
yet somehow he finds time to do things for the 
children too. 

His eyes are blue, while mother’s are brown. 
When he laughs, Marmaduke thinks it sounds like 
the church-bells on Sunday. Once he had a mous- 
tache but that went when mother said he would 
look younger without it. Now sometimes, when he 
works hard, he does not have time to shave every 
day. On Sunday mornings Hepzebiah loves to 
watch him take the brush and cup. The cup has 


4 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


flowers painted on it. When he turns the brush 
in the cup it makes something like whipped cream, 
or the top of mother’s lemon pies. 

And after he takes it off with the razor his face 
is red and shiny and smooth. Hepzebiah always 
likes to kiss her father, but she likes to kiss him 
best on Sunday mornings. 

Tonight you have met all the family so we must 
stop for the clock says “ after seven.” Tomorrow 
we will meet all the animals and they are really 
part of the family too. 


SECOND NIGHT 

THE PLAYMATES OF THE THREE HAPPY CHILDREN 

The three happy children have many play- 
mates, who live in the barnyard. Some have four 
feet and some only two, but these have two wings 
besides to make up for the missing feet. 

Jehosophat, Marmaduke, and Hepzebiah like 
the dogs best. And just as there are three children 
so there are three dogs. Let’s shake hands with 
them, one by one. 

The great big dog is named Rover, the middle- 
sized one Brownie, and the little yellow curly one 
Wienerwurst. 

A wise fellow is Rover. From a cold country 
called Newfoundland his great grandfather came. 
And he seems to think life is a very serious matter. 
His coat is black with snow-white patches. His 
hair curls a little. It feels very soft when you lay 
your head against it. 


5 


6 Seven O’Clock Stories 

He doesn’t play as much as the other two dog- 
gies. But once when Hepzebiah fell in the pond 
after her doll, Rover swam in and caught her dress 
in his mouth and brought her to shore. Not long 
after that Mr. Green gave him a new shiny collar. 

Brownie is a terrier and is coloured like his name. 
He is a frisky dog and often chases the horses and 
buggies that go up and down the road in front of 
the house. Sometimes the drivers lash at him with 
their long whips but he is too quick for them and 
scampers out of their reach. 

The funniest doggie in all the world is little 
yellow Wienerwurst. He is even more full of mis- 
chief than Brownie and loves to run after all the 
other animals in the barnyard. 

When the pigeons fly down from their little 
house on the top of the barn to take an afternoon 
walk and perhaps pick up a few extra grains of 
corn, this little yellow doggie spoils all their fun. 
He soon sends them flying back to their house 
on the roof, where they chatter and coo in great 
excitement. But they do not lose their tempers 
like “ Mr. Stuckup,” the turkey, or old “ Miss Cross- 
patch,” the guinea-hen with the ugly voice. 

Once little Wienerwurst caught a pretty pigeon 



“ Wienerwurst caught a pretty pigeon by its tail and bit it,” 






7 


Second Night 

by its tail and bit it. Then Mr. Green took him 
over his knee, just as he did Jehosophat when he 
threw a stone at the window, and spanked little 
Wienerwurst. 

Each dog has a house. One is big, one middle- 
sized, and one small, and each has a door to fit the 
doggie who lives there. Their houses are called 
kennels, and they are something like the pigeon’s 
home way up on the roof. 

The pigeons are very pretty, grey and white 
and pink coloured. When the sun shines brightly 
their necks shine too, like the rainbow silk dress 
which Mrs. Green wears whenever there is a 
wedding. 

One pair of the pigeons sit a great deal of the 
time on the ridge-pole of the barn and swell out 
their chests like proud, fat policemen. Farmer 
Green calls them pouter pigeons. 

They do not have harsh voices like the guinea- 
hen or the old black crows which steal the corn 
from the field when Mr. Scarecrow gets tired and 
goes to sleep. (We will introduce you to Mr. Scare- 
crow some evening very soon.) But the voices of 
the pigeons are soft and low like mother’s, especially 
when Hepzebiah is sick and she sings her to sleep. 


8 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


They will not have much to do with the chickens, 
these pigeons. Perhaps they are like the people 
who live on the top floor of tall city houses and do 
not go down often to talk with the people in the 
streets. 

What a lot of chickens Farmer Green has ! Al- 
most two hundred, if they would ever stay still long 
enough for Jehosophat to count them. They are 
called White Wyandottes and they are very white 
and plump, with combs as red as geraniums. 

You know there are many kinds of chickens just 
as there are many kinds of people, English, French, 
and Americans. Rhode Island Reds, Plymouth 
Rocks, Cochins, and Leghorns are some of the 
chicken family names, but Jehosophat ’s father does 
not believe in mixing families, he says, so only the 
White Wyandottes live on the Green farm. 

Jehosophat and Marmaduke love the big rooster 
best. The red comb on the top of his head has 
teeth like a carpenter’s saw, and is so large it will 
not stand up straight. His white tail curves beauti- 
fully like the plumes on the hats of the circus 
ladies. When he throws back his head, puffs out 
his throat, and calls to the Sun, he is indeed a 
wonderful creature. 


9 


Second Night 

The little chicks are the ones Hepzebiah loves 
best. She can hold them in her two hands like 
little soft yellow balls or the powder puffs which 
Nurse uses on new little babies. The little chicks 
have such tiny voices, crying “ cheep, cheep, cheep,” 
almost the way the crickets do all through the 
night. 

The chickens have cousins who— but there goes 
the clock— so that is tomorrow night’s story. 


THIRD NIGHT 

NOISY FOLKS 

Do you remember what we were telling about 
last night when that little tongue told us to stop ? 
The little tongue in the Clock-with-the- Wise-Face 
on the mantel ? 

Oh yes, the first cousins of the chickens who 
lived in the yard of the three happy children. 

Their first cousins are called ducks. Most of 
them are white but a few are black. Their coats 
are very smooth, and the skin under them sends 
out little drops of oil like drops of perspiration. 
This keeps the water and the rain from wetting 
the ducks through and through. You have heard 
people say sometimes: “The way water runs 
off a duck’s back.” Well, now you know the 
reason why. 

In rainy weather Hepzebiah wears a blue water- 
proof with a little hood but the ducks do not need 


10 


II 


Third Night 

anything like that. Their everyday coats of white 
and black are just as good. If the White Wyan- 
dottes cannot get under the chicken coop or the 
barn quick enough when it rains, their feathers 
are all mussed up but the ducks seem always 
dressed in their best. 

Their bills are different from their relatives’. 
They are not short and pointed like the chicken’s 
but broad and long. 

And they have what are called web feet. Be- 
tween the toes are pieces of skin, thick and tough 
like canvas. These web feet are like small oars or 
paddles. With them they can push against the 
water of the pond and swim quite fast. 

The ducks are very fond of the pond but their 
cousins think it a dreadful place. 

“Cluck, cluck,” say the White Wyandottes, 
“ what a foolish way of spending your time, sailing 
on the water when there are fat, brown worms to 
dig for in the nice earth ! ” 

You see animals, like people, like different 
things. The world wouldn’t be half so interesting 
if we all liked the same things, would it ? 

The other night Jehosophat felt very foolish 
when he came in to supper. His mother looked 


12 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


behind his ears and said: “Why you are just as 
afraid of the water as the chickens.” 

Did you ever hear of such a thing ! 

Now the chickens have second cousins too. Their 
second cousins are the white geese. 

They live on the other side of the tall fence 
that looks as if it were made of crocheted wire. 
Sometimes Jehosophat’s father opens the gate in 
the fence and lets the geese wander down to the 
pond. A silly way they have of stretching out 
their long white necks and crying, “Hiss, hiss!” 
This frightens Hepzebiah who always runs away. 
Then the geese waddle along in single file, that is 
one by one, like fat old ladies crossing a muddy 
street on their way to sewing society. 

Jehosophat says that the chickens have third 
cousins too,— the swans. There they are, way out 
on the pond, sailing along like white ships. Their 
necks are very long and snowy white and they 
bend in such a pretty way. And their soft white 
wings look something like the wings of the angels 
on the Christmas cards. 

Jehosophat, Marmaduke, and Hepzebiah do not 
like one barnyard neighbour very much. It is 
the guinea-hen. She has a grey body, plump as a 


“The ducks, the swans, and the geese are very fond of the pond, but their 
cousins think it a dreadful place.” 




































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13 


Third Night 

sack of meal, with little white speckles, a funny 
neck and such a small head with a tuft on top. 
She screeches horribly and Marmaduke calls her 
“ Miss Crosspatch.” 

But the turkey with his proud walk is just 
funny. And yet Farmer Green says he hasn’t any 
sense of humour. Ask your father how that can be 
if he is funny. 

“Mr. Stuckup” the children call the turkey. 
He walks along slowly, swinging from side to side. 
His feathers are brownish-black or bronze, and his 
tail often spreads out like a fan. He has the fun- 
niest nose. It is red and soft and long and flops 
over his bill on his chest. 

He calls “gobble, gobble, gobble,” all the time, 
yet he does not gobble as much as the busy White 
Wyandottes all around him who are forever look- 
ing for kernels of corn or worms or bugs. 

But who is this magnificent creature coming 
along over the lawn under the cherry-tree ? 
Uncle Roger, who sails around the world in a great 
ship with white sails, gave him to the children. He 
brought him from a land very far across the seas. 

He is the peacock and is all green and gold and 
blue. On his head is a little crown of feathers. His 


14 Seven O’Clock Stories 

tail, too, can spread out like a fan the way “ Mr. 
Stuckup’s,” the turkey’s, does. But it is ever so 
much more beautiful. It is green and has hundreds 
of blue eyes in it. The three children call him the 
“ Party Bird ” for he is always so dressed up, but 
their father says he is “a bit of a snob.” He means 
that he is vain and will not have much to do with 
his plainer neighbours of the barnyard 

“ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.” There 
goes the clock again. 

Tomorrow night, if you are good all day, we 
will tell you about the rest of the barnyard friends 
of the three happy children. Then the next night, 
about the exciting things that happened to them. 

Good-night ! Sweet Dreams ! 


FOURTH NIGHT 


JUST BEFORE SUPPER 

In the afternoon the sun grows tired of his hot 
walk across the sky. Beyond the Green farm are 
the blue hills behind which he sleeps each night. 

When he is almost there the three happy children 
go down to the barn to watch their four-footed 
friends come home. 

Sometimes Frank, the hired man who helps 
Farmer Green, is late and does not go for the cows. 
All day long they have been in pasture. Some- 
- times they eat the grass and pink clover. Some- 
times they wade in the little brook which flows there. 
But when it grows late, even if Frank does not come, 
they know it is supper time and leave the pasture. 

When they reach the barnyard fence they stand 
outside calling to be let in. Then Frank comes 
and lets down the bars. They walk into the yard 
and through the doors into the big red barn. 

15 


16 Seven O’Clock Stories 

There are ten cows but Jehosophat, Marmaduke, 
and Hepzebiah love four of them better than the 
rest. Their names are “Primrose,” “Daisy,” 
“Buttercup,” and “ Black-eyed Susan.” 

Now just as there are different kinds of chickens 
so there are several kinds of cows — Guernseys, 
Jerseys, Alderneys, and Holsteins. 

“Primrose,” “Daisy,” and “Buttercup” are 
Jerseys and are a pretty brown. “Black-eyed 
Susan ” belongs to the Holsteins and is black and 
white. “ Black-eyed Susan ” gives more milk than 
her companions but their milk has richer cream. 

Each cow has a stall to sleep in. In front of 
each is a box or manger. Frank climbs up the tall 
ladder to the loft, which is the second story of the 
barn, and throws down the hay. Then he takes 
his sharp pitchfork and tosses a lot of hay in each 
manger. You would never think cows could eat so 
much. One box of shredded-wheat would do for 
all the Green family and visitors too, but “ Prim- 
rose” and “Daisy” and all the rest each eat enough 
hay. to fill many shredded- wheat boxes. 

Jehosophat, Marmaduke, and Hepzebiah love to 
stand in the doorway of the barn and smell the 
hay as the cows chew it. It is very sweet smelling. 



“Primrose, Daisy, Buttercup, and old Black-eyed Susan walked into the big barn.” 

























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17 


Fourth Night 

They do not go too near the stalls, for while the 
cows are eating their supper, they switch their tails 
to keep off the flies. Once “Black-eyed Susan” 
switched her tail across Marmaduke’s face. It felt 
like a whip and he ran away crying. But “Susan” 
didn’t mean it for she is a very gentle cow. 

And once Jehosophat came too near old “ Crum- 
plety Horn,” the white cow with the twisted horn. 
She kicked at Jehosophat and over went the phil of 
milk which his father had almost full. 

The children like to see their father and Frank 
sit on their three-legged stools in the stalls and 
milk the cows. The milk spurts into the pails and 
it sounds very pleasant. 

The milk is very warm when it comes from the 
cows so Farmer Green puts it in great cans as tall 
as Jehosophat. Then he carries the cans to the 
spring-house where it is cool, and leaves them over- 
night by the well. The children will drink some of 
it in the morning. Tonight they will drink this 
mornings milk, which is cool now. 

About the time the cows come home the horses 
come back too. 

First comes “ Hal ” the red roan. A red roan is 
a horse that is red-coloured, sprinkled with little 


18 Seven O’Clock Stories 

grey hairs. Then there is “ Chestnut ” who is called 
that because he is coloured like chestnuts when 
they are ripe in the fall, and “Teddy,” the buck- 
skin horse. He is tan-coloured and has a black 
stripe on his backbone. Farmer Green got him 
from the West. There is a little mark called a 
brand on his flank which tells that. 

“ Old Methuselah ” and “White Boots” do not do 
much work now. “Old Methuselah” is all white. 
He was pretty old when Farmer Green bought him 
so he was nicknamed for the oldest man in the 
Bible. “ White Boots ” is a bay mare. That means 
a red-brown mother horse. She has four white 
feet. By her side runs a little black colt with funny 
legs. Jehosophat gave him his name, “ Black Prince.” 

“ Hal ” and “ Teddy ” and “ Chestnut ” are very 
tired for they have been pulling the plough, the 
wagon, or doing some farm work all day. 

Very glad they are to get their heavy leather 
collars and harness off and rest in the cool barn. 
They have hay to eat but they have been work- 
ing hard so they have oats besides. Jehosophat, 
Marmaduke, and Hepzebiah eat oats too but theirs 
are flattened out and cooked. We call it oat- 
meal. The oats for the horses are not flat but 


19 


Fourth Night 

round like little seeds, and are not cooked on any 
stove. Farmer Green cuts the stalks in the oat 
field. Then he takes them to the threshing-machine, 
which knocks the little oats off the stalks. Then 
they are put in bags to keep for the horses. 

But the little black colt with the funny long 
legs does not eat them. He gets milk from his 
mother. He is just a baby horse, you see, but when 
he gets bigger he will have oats and hay too. 

Now all the animals are busy eating, the pigs 
with their curly tails, the sheep, the lambs, the 
cows, the little calves, the horses, and the colt with 
the funny legs. It is time for the three happy 
children to have their supper so they run back 
to the house. Soon, very soon, they will be fast 
asleep in Slumberland, which is where the Little- 
Clock-with-the- Wise-Face says you should be now. 
Good-night. 


FIFTH NIGHT 

THE TOYMAN 

Farmer Green has a man who helps him 
plough, feed the cows and horses, and with all 
the work on the farm. His name is Frank, but 
Jehosophat, Marmaduke, and Hepzebiah call him 
“the Toyman.” 

Winter nights around the fire he makes won- 
derful toys for them. 

His knife is like a fairy’s wand. With it he 
whittles boats for Jehosophat, kites for Marma- 
duke, and dolls for Hepzebiah. He paints them 
pretty colours too. So I think they gave him 
the right sort of nickname when they called him 
“the Toyman.” 

He hasn’t many clothes and no house of his 
own and no relatives of any sort. He isn’t ex- 
actly a handsome man. But the three happy 
children love the Toyman very much. 


20 


21 


Fifth Night 

Yesterday he sat by the edge of the pond. 
On one side sat Jehosophat, Marmaduke, and big 
Rover. On the other side sat Hepzebiah, Brownie, 
and little yellow Wienerwurst. 

They were all looking down at the water of 
the pond. It was very clear. 

“Keep still, Wienerwurst,” said the Toyman, 
“ or you will scare the fishes.” 

They were swimming through the waters. 
Near the banks were little baby fishes, hundreds 
of them, called minnows. They had a nickname 
too, “minnies.” Out farther, once in a while, the 
children saw a fish Shining like gold. It was a 
sunfish or “sunny” as they sometimes called it. 
And the Toyman told them all about these fishes 
and the perch, too, and the long pickerel and the 
wicked carp, who hunts the other fish and kills 
them. 

Then all at once the Toyman put his hands in 
his pockets. Mother Green says his pockets are 
like ten-cent stores. They are so full of all sorts 
of things. 

The three children watched him closely. First 
came a piece of wood with a fishline wound around it. 

Then with his knife he cut three poles and 


22 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


near the top of each a little notch. The fishlines 
were tied around the poles. At the other end he 
put little curved fish-hooks, and about two feet 
above them little pieces of lead, called “sinkers.” 
The sinkers were to keep the hooks near the bottom 
of the pond where the fish stay most of the time. 

Then from his pockets the Toyman took three 
pretty things which he had made the night before. 
They were whittled of wood and shaped like lemons 
with sharper points. The red and blue one was 
tied on Jehosophat’s line, the red and yellow one on 
Marmaduke’s, and the blue and yellow on little 
Hepzebiah’s. 

“What are those pretty things?” asked Mar- 
maduke. 

“Floaters,” the Toyman answered. “Watch and 
you will see what we do with them.” 

“Now you keep still, you Wienerwurst, or we 
will put you back in the kennel,” called the Toyman 
to the little yellow dog, who felt very frisky and 
wanted to bark all the time. 

By the feet of the Toyman was a tin can. He 
put in his hand and pulled out a worm. This was 
put on Jehosophat’s hook, another on Marmaduke’s, 
and another on Hepzebiah’s. 


23 


Fifth Night 

Then the Toyman threw the three hooks in the 
water. The two boys held their poles tight but the 
Toyman had to help little Hepzebiah hold her pole, 
for her hands were too small. 

“Now quiet, everybody!” said the Toyman 
once more and they all sat watching the red and 
blue, the yellow and blue, and the red and yellow 
floaters out on the water. 

“When the floater goes under, you will know 
that a fish is biting at the worm on the hook.” 

The Toyman had no sooner said this than he 
called out loud : 

“ Watch ’er ! ” 

The red and yellow floater was pulled way under 
the water. The string on Marmaduke’s pole 
tightened and the pole bent. 

Three times the floater went under the water. 

Then Marmaduke threw his pole back quickly 
and the hook came out of the water. On it some- 
thing wriggled. The thing fell plop into Hepzebiah’s 
lap. She screamed while it flopped there. It was 
a little bigger than the Toyman’s hand and round 
and flat and shiny red and gold. No, it was not a 
goldfish. It was a sunfish. 

After the Toyman had taken the sunfish from 


24 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


the hook and put another worm on it, he threw 
the line back into the water. 

Then all the three children and the two dogs sat 
watching the little rings in the water around the 
floaters. Sometimes farther out they saw larger 
rings, and a fish feeling pretty happy, because of 
the cool September weather, would jump out of the 
water and turn a somersault through the air. 

Then all of a sudden the blue and yellow floater 
went under and little Hepzebiah caught a sunfish, 
too. 

Jehosophat felt disappointed because he was the 
oldest and hadn’t caught any fish at all. But the 
afternoon was not gone when he felt a big tug at 
his line. It took him a long time to pull that fish 
in. When the hook came out of the water a long 
wriggly thing was on it. 

“ Oo, oo, it’s a snake,” screamed little Hepzebiah. 

“No, it’s only an eel,” said the Toyman, “he 
won’t hurt you.” 

But he had to take it off Jehosophat’s hook 
himself, the eel was so slippery and wriggled so. 
Before the sun went down, the children had each 
caught two fish. There were three sunfish, two 
perch, and the wriggly eel. 


“On the line something wriggled. It was round and shiny and gold.” 




















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25 


Fifth Night 

The Toyman cleaned them all. And Mother 
fried them with butter and flour in a pan. It was 
a good supper they had that night, for they had 
caught it themselves. When supper was over 
three little heads were nodding and soon the three 
happy children were taking a little sail way on into 
Dreamland. That is a beautiful place where you 
would like to go too. So you had better follow 
them quickly. Perhaps you can catch up with 
them. Good-night. 


SIXTH NIGHT 

THE WILLOW WHISTLE 

The Toyman sat by the pond under the “Cry- 
ing Tree.” That is what Marmaduke calls it, 
though the Toyman says it is a weeping willow. It’s 
leaves are a very pretty green, much lighter than 
the leaves of the other trees. And the branches 
bend over till they reach the water. They really 
do look like showers of tears. Sometimes little 
leaves fall into the water and float away like silver- 
green boats, rowed by tiny fairies. 

Jehosophat, Marmaduke, and Hepzebiah came 
up to the “ Crying Tree.” 

“ What are you doing, Toyman,” asked Marma- 
duke. 

“Watch and you will see.” 

They were always asking him that question and 
he was always telling them to watch and see. 

So they did. 


26 


27 


Sixth Night 

In his hand he had his knife, which could make 
as many things as a fairy’s wand. It had four 
blades and a corkscrew. 

The Toyman cut some thin branches from the 
tree. From these he cut three pieces, each about 
as long as his first finger and about as thick as his 
little finger. 

One end of each piece of wood he cut like the 
stern of a boat, then he cut a notch near the end. 

Then he worked with his knife very carefully. 
Soon the green bark came off each little piece of 
wood. The bark came off whole, like a little roll 
of green paper. 

“See,” said the Toyman, “the bark is the skin 
of the tree and in spring the sap which is the blood 
of the tree flows fast. It isn’t coloured red, it is 
just like light juice, but it makes the bark slip off 
this wood very easily.” 

On the grass he laid the round pieces of green 
bark. Then he took the white bits of wood which 
had been under the bark and he whittled away at 
the ends. Soon he was through. 

Then he slipped the pieces of bark, which looked 
so much like little rolled-up green papers, back on 
the white pieces of wood. 



28 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


They fitted perfectly. 

One he gave to Jehosophat, one to Marmaduke, 
and one to Hepzebiah. 

“ What are they ? ” asked Marmaduke. 

“I know,” said his brother Jehosophat, “they 
are whistles.” 

“Yes,” said the Toyman. “They are willow 
whistles. Now put them in your mouths and blow.” 

Each put the end of his whistle in his mouth and 
blew. 

It sounded very pretty, the three whistles— and 
then — what do you think ? 

Not far from the weeping willow or the “ Crying 
Tree,” was an elm tree. It was taller than the 
willow and darker green. 

In it something shone very bright— like an 
orange, only it moved. 

“ It’s an oriole,” said the Toyman. 

They looked hard and, sure enough, there 
among the leaves was the prettiest bird they had 
ever seen. He had an orange-coloured body and 
black wings. 

His nest was on the end of a branch. It was 
grey-coloured and hung low like a little bag, made 
of knitted grey wool. Father and Mother Oriole 


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29 


Sixth Night 

had made it themselves. Mother Oriole is there 
sitting in it on little eggs. 

But Father Oriole heard the three willow 
whistles and he turned and began to whistle back 
—oh such a pretty song. It was really prettier 
than the sound of the three willow whistles for it 
had different notes and a tune like the songs 
Mother plays on the piano. 

“We must watch that nest,” said the Toyman. 
“Some day soon we will see the baby orioles.” 

But there— the Little-Clock-with-the- Wise-Face 
is scolding again. So the story must stop for 
tonight. 

When you’re asleep if you listen very hard, may- 
be you can hear the three happy children blowing 
the willow whistles, and maybe the beautiful oriole 
will answer back. 

Good-night. 


SEVENTH NIGHT 

MR. SCARECROW 

Under the big oak by the brook sat the three 
happy children with Rover, Brownie, and little 
yellow Wienerwurst. They were watching the Toy- 
man cut the ripe corn. 

“ Isn’t that funny ? ” said Jehosophat. 

“ What’s funny ? ” asked Marmaduke. 

“ Wot’s funny ? ” repeated Hepzebiah. 

“Oh! I was just thinking,” said Jehosophat, 
“how he seems just Frank when he’s ploughing 
or harrowing or cutting the corn. But when he’s 
through work and tells us stories or makes us 
things, why then he is the Toyman.” 

“ Yes,” his brother agreed. “ He looks as if some 
fairy godmother changed him nights and Sundays.” 

But they were rudely interrupted. 

“ Caw, caw ! ” said a voice. 

It was a rascal’s voice. 


30 


31 


Seventh Night 

“Caw, caw!” said another. 

The Toyman jumped. He shook his fist. 

“You old thief!” he called. 

“Rogue, rogue, rogue!” growled Rover in his 
deep voice. 

“Run, run, run!” barked Brownie. 

“Rough, rough — rough, rough!” said little 
Wienerwurst in his funny voice. 

“There he is,” said the Toyman, “Mr. Jim Crow 
and all his wicked chums. See there ! ” 

All the children looked in the direction in which 
his finger pointed. Over in the far corner of the field 
a flock of crows flew up from the waving corn. A 
white horse, drawing a buggy, was trotting along 
the road by the side of the cornfield. The driver 
had scared Mr. Jim Crow and all his chums. They 
flapped their big black wings as they flew. And 
they flew very straight, not like the pretty barn- 
swallows with their dark-blue wings. The swallow 
is a happy bird and skims and dances in the air 
like a fancy skater on the ice. But Mr. Jim Crow 
flies like an arrow. That is because he is always 
up to some mischief and forever running away 
when someone finds him out. 

“ Caw, caw ! ” he called. 


32 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


“Caw, caw!” called all his black mates. 

The Toyman ran to the fence and picked up a 
shotgun. It had two barrels that shone in the sun. 

“Bang, bang!” went the gun. 

One black spot dropped to the earth like a stone. 

The Toyman ran out in the cornfield. He bent 
over until his straw hat was hidden by the waving 
corn. 

Soon he came back. From his hand Mr. Jim 
Crow hung head downward. He was very still. 

“ Oo, oo ! You’ve hurted him ! ” 

Little Hepzebiah began to cry. 

“ Don’t cry,” said the Toyman, patting her head. 
“Mr. Jim Crow was a bad fellow. You couldn’t 
teach him any lessons.” 

“What did he do?” Marmaduke asked. 

“ He stole all the corn and you wouldn’t have any 
nice muffins if he had had his way. I never shoot 
the orioles or the robins or the swallows or any of 
the birds with consciences.” 

“What is a conscience?” 

“Oh a little clock inside you, like the Clock- 
with-the-Wise-Face-on-the-Mantel. It tells you 
when it is time to stop,” explained their friend. 

And Jehosophat and Marmaduke looked as if 


33 


Seventh Night 

they knew just what he meant. But Hepzebiah 
was too little yet to understand. 

“ See, Mr. Jim Crow is long and black. He has 
a bad eye.” 

So he buried Mr. Jim Crow under the oak tree 
while the children watched. 

After that the Toyman said : 

“ I reckon Mr. Scarecrow has fainted.” 

“Who’s Mr. Scarecrow?” asked the three happy 
children. “ Is he Mr. Jim Crow’s cousin ? ” 

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the Toyman. “That is 
a good one. No, Mr. Scarecrow is the policeman 
of the cornfield. Let’s go over and set him on his 
pins again.” 

So again he walked through the rows between 
the cornstalks and they came to a little clear place 
in the middle of the field. 

There, flat on his back, lay Mr. Scarecrow. 

He too looked as if he were dead. But he was not. 

For his body was only two sticks of wood 
nailed together like a cross. He was dressed in 
Father Green’s old blue trousers and the Toyman’s 
old black coat. His arms were outstretched. But 
he had lost his hat. His wooden head stuck out. 

The Toyman picked him up and stood him 


34 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


straight on his one wooden leg. Then he put the 
old felt hat on his hard head. 

“ There, old wooden top,” the Toyman spoke to 
him sternly. “ Don’t leave your beat.” 

But Marmaduke was puzzled. 

“ How could he scare Mr. Jim Crow away like 
a policeman? He can’t run with that wooden 
leg.” 

“Silly,” said Jehosophat, for he was older than 
Marmaduke and knew Mr. Scarecrow very well. 

“Ha, ha, ha, that’s another good one,” said the 
Toyman. “Of course he can’t run. But when 
all the Crows see him standing up in the cornfield 
they think he is a real man. They are afraid Mr. 
Scarecrow will shoot. For they know that things 
that wear coats and hats often have guns. And 
guns have killed their chums. So they do not come 
very near when Mr. Scarecrow is around.” 

“Caw, caw!” sounded the old rascals again. 
But the crows were far away. The three happy 
children could see them way up in the old chestnut 
tree over on the edge of their neighbour’s wood. 

In the fork of two high branches was a great 
round nest — oh ever so much bigger than the 
thrush’s and the oriole’s. It was a crow’s nest. 





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35 


Seventh Night 

Sailors often call the little turret built around the 
mast, where they stand and look out over the sea, 
a “crow's nest.” It looks something like that. 

But Mr. Jim Crow’s chums didn’t come near the 
cornfield that day. 

At night, when they were ready for bed, Jehoso- 
phat said to Marmaduke : 

“I wonder if old Mr. Scarecrow is out there 
now.” 

“Course he is,” his brother assured him. 

“ Let’s see ! ” 

So they jumped out of bed and, in their white 
nightgowns, tiptoed over the floor to the window. 
The Old-Man-in-the-Moon was up. He looked as 
round and fat as a pumpkin in the sky. 

He winked at them. 

The Old-Man-in-the-Moon made it very bright 
so that they could see. 

Sure enough, way out in the cornfield stood Mr. 
Scarecrow. 

His haJ and coat were on and he was standing 
up like a man, very straight and still. His arms 
were outstretched to tell Mr. Jim Crow’s chums 
that he was ready for them. 

But though they are thieves, the Black Crows 


36 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


are not night burglars,* and they were fast asleep in 
the nests in the wood. 

The Man-in-the-Moon winked at them three 
times, once with his right eye, once with his left 
eye, then again with the right. 

And the three happy children thought they 
heard him say three times : 

“Back to bed, back to bed, back to bed !” 

Then they heard the sound of bells. Seven 
times they sounded. It was from the church over 
in the town,— the big white church with the long 
finger pointing at the sky. And the Little-Clock- 
with-the-Wise-Face-on-the-Mantel, answered back. 

So they obeyed the old yellow Man-in-the-Moon 
and scampered like little white mice back to bed. 


EIGHTH NIGHT 

THE PRETTIEST FAIRY STORY IN THE WORLD 

“Tell me a story — a fairy story,” said Jehoso- 
phat to his Mother. 

The three happy children loved really true 
stories and fairy stories too. Sometimes they 
wanted one, sometimes the other. Sometimes the 
Toyman mixed his stories up so it was hard to tell 
which they were. 

This morning it was spring. The sun was warm 
and Jehosophat felt very lazy. 

“ No,” said Mother. “ I have too much work to 
do. But if you will help me dry the dishes I won’t 
tell you but I’ll show you one of the prettiest fairy 
stories in the world.” 

“ It is true too,” she added. 

“Mother, how can that be,” said Marmaduke. 
“A fairy story that is a true story?” 

“ Just be patient,” she replied, “ and you will see.” 

37 


38 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


So the boys took the dish towels and helped 
dry the dishes, without any accidents. But little 
Hepzebiah was too small, so she sat on the floor 
with her finger in her mouth and watched them. 

“Come,” said Mother Green when they were 
through. 

Out in the vegetable garden, back of the rasp- 
berries they went. 

“See there,” said Mother. 

Three square little garden plots with nice brown 
earth were waiting for seeds. 

“ Father dug them for you— one for Jehosophat, 
one for Marmaduke, and one for Hepzebiah.” 

The three happy children couldn’t help but 
think that was fine. 

Just then along came Father. 

His arms were full. 

He had three little rakes, three little hoes, and 
three little spades. 

The three happy children did not need to ask 
whom they were for. 

“But where’s the fairy story, Mother?” 

“ That you will make,” she said. “ The jolly old 
Sun, the gentle Rain, and brown Mother Earth 
will help you.” 


39 


Eighth Night 

Jehosophat laughed. 

“Oh! I see now. But we can’t finish that 
fairy story all in one day.” 

“ No, it takes time and it takes work. But it’s 
a prettier story than any in books. And you can 
make it come true yourselves.” 

Then Marmaduke piped up: 

“ What do we do first ? ” 

“Well,” his Mother explained, “your Father 
has dug the ground for you. You must rake it 
first, make it smooth and even. Mind, no hard 
lumps now ! ” 

So the three happy children set to work with 
their three shiny rakes. Father had to help Hep- 
zebiah, of course. 

Then when the earth was smooth and fine, like 
brown powder, they made little furrows or lines in 
the earth. In other parts of the little gardens they 
scooped out tiny holes with their hoes. 

Out of his pockets Father took some square 
envelopes. On them were printed pretty flowers 
and ripe vegetables. 

“There,” said Mother, “are the pictures of the 
end of the fairy story. But you’ll never know the 
end unless you try hard.” 


40 


Seven O’Clock Stories 

Father tore open the envelopes and sowed the 
seeds in Hepzebiah’s garden, some in the little holes, 
some in the furrows. Then he let the two boys 
sow their own gardens. 

After the envelopes were all empty and the 
seeds all scattered they covered them over with 
the fine brown soil. 

“The little seeds must sleep for a while,” said 
their Mother, “like babies in a big brown bed.” 

So every day the three children watched. And 
the Sun shone and sometimes the gentle Rain came. 
They did not feel sad when she was weeping, for 
Mother told them she was a fairy too, not so jolly 
as the Sun but gentle and kind. Jolly Sun, gentle 
Rain, and Mother Earth — they were all fairies 
whom God had sent to help make the story come 
true. 

Sometimes it was hard to finish breakfast, they 
were so anxious to see what had happened in the 
little gardens during the night. Sometimes they 
even forgot to ask Mother to “please excuse” 
them and they had to be called back to the table, 
for that was very impolite. 

At last one wonderful morning, as they stood 
around the flower beds, Jehosophat said : 



“The three happy children set to work with the three shiny rakes.” 




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4i 


Eighth Night 

“ There’s Chapter Two ! ” 

“ What’s that ? ” asked Marmaduke who didn’t 
quite understand. 

“ Oh, just another step in the fairy tale.” 

“ Where ? ” 

He pointed to one of the gardens. 

From the brown earth a little green head poked 
out. 

Little Hepzebiah danced for it was in her 
garden, and toddled off to tell Mother. 

Next day there were five more little heads, 
some in each of the gardens. They were light 
in colour and seemed weak but somehow the jolly 
old Sun and brown Mother Earth took care of 
them as parents take care of babies. And some- 
times the gentle Rain came to water them with 
her tears. So they grew strong and soon the 
gardens were covered with an army of sturdy little 
green spears. 

“It looks like a brown pincushion with green 
needles and pins,” said Jehosophat. 

And the weeks passed and still the three good 
fairies worked hard over them to help them live 
and grow up to be real vegetables and flowers. 
They worked away very quietly, these three good 


42 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


fairies, as all good people work, without any noise, 
without any fuss. 

One day Farmer Green came back from a visit 
to the town. 

With him he brought three green watering-pots. 

“You must do some more work, yourselves,” 
he told them as he handed each one of the shiny 
green cans. “You must water them when the 
Rain fairy is tired, pull up the bad weeds that steal 
the food Mother Earth keeps for the flowers, 
and you must keep the soil loose around the roots, 
so that the drops can sink way down deep. The 
more work you do the better you will like your 
flowers when they do come. And the taller and 
prettier they will be.” 

So the little green stalks grew tall and strong. 
Then the little buds came. 

And one by one the buds opened into flowers. 
And the flowers had on their petals all the colours 
of the rainbow in the sky. 

And the children took turns filling the vase on the 
supper table. They were very proud of their flowers 
when their father leaned over and smelled them. 

“ My, how sweet they smell ! ” he would say every 
time. “I don’t think I ever saw such flowers.” 


43 


Eighth Night 

And when their vegetables came to the table- 
round plump red radishes, crisp curling lettuce 
leaves, juicy tomatoes, and rows of peas in the pod, 
like the little toes of the neighbour’s baby, Father 
Green would say: 

“I never did eat such vegetables!” 

Then he would smile over at Mother. 

And Marmaduke, after his turn one night, 
whispered to his mother : 

“ It was a pretty fairy story, Mother. And we 
made it come true ourselves.” 

“ Yes, with the help of God and His fairies— the 
jolly Sun, the gentle Rain, and brown Mother 
Earth. But the best part of it all is that your own 
hands helped.” 

But the Little-Clock-with-the-Wise-Face-on- 
the-Mantle thought that the children understood 
now. So he stopped this advice with his silver 
tongue. 

And Mother, too, agreed that it was late. So 
she kissed them good-night and tucked them under 
the coverlids as they had covered the tiny seeds in 
their brown beds. 


NINTH NIGHT 

ANOTHER TRUE FAIRY STORY 

Jehosophat, Marmaduke, and Hepzebiah were 
very happy as they watched the fairy story of the 
flowers. They were happier still because they 
helped it grow. But of course that did not take all 
of their time. So one morning when Marmaduke 
had eaten up all of his oatmeal and the cream, 
which Buttercup had given him, he laid his spoon 
down and said : 

“Won’t you show us another story, ’cause we 
can’t watch our gardens all day long?” 

“Yes,” said Mother, “let me think what it will 
be.” 

So Mother thought awhile. 

“I’ll get Mother Nature to show you another 
story. But you can’t help with this one. You’ll 
just have to watch. It’s made by the birds 
themselves.” 


44 


45 


Ninth Night 

Then she looked at the calendar. 

“ Why, it’s the fourteenth of May. He ought to 
be here pretty soon.” 

“ Who ought to be here soon?” asked Jehosophat. 

“Why, the Oriole, the Baltimore Oriole, on his 
way back from the South, where he lives all 
winter.” 

“ How do you know he’ll come soon?” the three 
children asked, all in the same breath. 

“He always comes back about the middle of 
May. City folks call May first ‘ Moving Day,’ but 
the fifteenth is the Oriole’s Moving Day.” 

So Mother led them out of the front door. 

“Just sit in that swing or play with the pine 
needles and watch that elm. Don’t make too 
much noise now ! Maybe he’ll come today.” 

And the children played in the front of the 
house all the morning and looked up at the dark 
green leaves of the elm every once in a while. 
But no bright little bird messenger came. 

They were very much disappointed but Mother 
said: 

“ Never mind, tomorrow is his Moving Day and 
I think he’ll come then. He is usually pretty 
prompt.” 


46 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


That night Uncle Roger came to the house 
with Aunt Mehitable. As a special treat the 
children were allowed to stay up late and hear 
Uncle Roger’s stories of the great sea. 

They stayed up very late, although the Little- 
Clock- with-the-Wise-Face-on-the-Mantle spoke 
several times. So next morning they were very 
tired. The sun was warm and while Jehosophat, 
Marmaduke and Hepzebiah sat on the porch they 
fell asleep. Jehosophat’s head nodded against one 
post, Marmaduke’s against another post, while 
little Hepzebiah fell asleep between them on the 
floor of the porch. 

“Wow, wow, wow,” growled Rover, “let’s go 
out in the barnyard and chase the White Wyan- 
dottes. It’s no fun playing with sleepy children.” 

“Wow, wow, wow!” answered Brownie and 
little Wienerwurst together, and this in dog’s lan- 
guage means “Yes.” 

So they romped away to the barnyard to chase 
the frightened White Wyandottes. 

That was not a good thing for the chickens but 
it was a good thing for the children. For if the 
dogs had not run away they might have missed 
something very wonderful. 


47 


Ninth Night 

What do you think it was? 

First they heard pretty strains of music. It 
was something like a song and something like a 
whistle. 

They looked up in the elm tree. 

There, shining among the dark green leaves, 
was a pretty thing with orange and black feathers. 
He whistled away as if he did not have a care in 
the world. 

And they did not have to be told— they knew 
who it was. It was their old friend, the Oriole. 

He didn’t stay still very long ever, for he was a 
busy fellow. But once he swung on a twig for a 
little while. They saw that he was almost as big 
as a robin, with head and shoulders of black, the 
wings black too, and most of his tail. But the rest 
of his body was like the prettiest orange-coloured 
velvet they had ever seen. He was singing some- 
thing like this : 

“ What a fine day, what a fine day. 

I can sing and build, for work is play.” 

And every once in a while he would fly over to 
the apple tree and hop from branch to branch be- 
tween the pink and white blossoms, looking for 
food. He was very fond of those caterpillars in 


4 8 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


the tree, you see. In between mouthfuls he would 
whistle just part of his song, 

“A — ver-y — fine— day ! ” 

Then he would take another bite, hop to another 
branch and whistle again: 

“ A — ver-y — fine — day ! ” 

He certainly seemed to be happy over the 
beautiful weather. 

Then he would whistle again as if he were talk- 
ing to someone. 

The three sleepy children listened. 

“ Now that nest, dear, now that nest, dear. 

We must build that nest, before we rest.” 

To whom could he be talking? 

They looked around. And there, hopping about 
on a spray of beautiful apple blossoms, was another 
bird. It was Mother Oriole. She was almost 
like Father Oriole, only her coat was not as bright 
as his. It is funny the way birds are dressed, isn’t 
it? What would you think if some Sunday your 
Father went to church in a black coat with a 
yellow vest, while Mother wore some very dull 
colour? You would laugh. But that is the way 
with birds. The father bird always wears brighter 
colours than the mother. 


49 


Ninth Night 

The three happy children were glad that the 
mother bird had come with the father bird up 
from the sunny South. They heard him whistle 
again: 

“ In the Winter we go South, dear, 

But in the Spring to the North we wing.” 

Then together they flew back to the elm. They 
were house-hunting. Back on the roof of the barn 
there was a little house of wood with doors for the 
pretty pigeons, but there were no houses of any 
kind on the old elm. Still the Orioles did not worry 
about that. They were not lazy, oh no ! 

They were just looking for a place to build. 
They must have found it, for the Oriole sang again 
(he was always changing his song) : 

“ My dear, my dear, 

Sunny— quiet— lovely— here.” 

He had chosen a branch about thirty feet from 
the ground. Mother Oriole quietly answered back 
that it suited her perfectly. They both flew down 
to the ground, then back to the tree. And every 
time they travelled they had little pieces of grass 
or bark in their bills. But Mother Oriole did most 
of this work, which was quite proper, for mothers 
always do most of the work about the house, don’t 


50 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


they ? Father Oriole, you see, was more interested 
in getting fat beetles and caterpillars for food. 
And that was quite right too. But once he sang 
out louder than ever, for he had found a bit of 
string from Jehosophat’s broken kite. 

“ The very thing, the very thing,” he said to her. 

And once Mother Oriole found, caught in the 
shutter, little threads of Hepzebiah’s hair. 

Then the three happy children woke up. They 
rubbed their eyes. They had been dreaming in the 
warm sun. 

But their dream was true and the fairy story 
was true. 

For there were the two birds, very pretty and 
very much alive. They were busily flying to the 
earth again and back to the elm branch. And 
they were carrying the materials for their new 
home in their beaks. 

They perched on the branch and crocheted 
with their beaks. Yes, crocheted the little bits of 
bark and string and grass and hair into a tiny nest. 
Hanging down from the branch, it looked like the 
pretty soft grey bags which ladies carry, only it 
was very small. 

And between whiles Father Oriole would whistle 



“The Orioles were very happy birds.” 






Ninth Night 51 

in delight and Mother Oriole would answer back 
quietly. 

They were very happy birds and were quite 
content with the warm sun and the cool elm leaves 
and the pretty apple blossoms and their breakfast 
and dinner and supper. And they were very 
grateful to the good God who had given these 
things to them, grateful and happy as all little 
children should be. 

But that is not the end of the fairy story. No, 
that is — but the Little-Clock-with-the-Wise-Face- 
on-the-Mantel won’t let us tell any more. His 
silver voice says: 

“ Ting — ting — ting — ting — ting — ting — ting,” 
which means: 

“Tell — that — tale — a — noth — er — time.” 

So good-night. 


TENTH NIGHT 

THE HAPPY ENDING OF THE ORIOLE’S STORY 

All stories should have an ending. It’s fine, 
isn’t it, when they end happily? 

And this story of the Orioles did end happily — 
oh, so happily ! 

It was this way, you see. 

The little grey house on the elm was finished. 

It hung down from the end of the green branch, 
under the leaves. It looked both like a fairy house 
and a little crocheted bag. 

Now for some days Mother Oriole didn’t go out 
very much. She stayed in her little house. 

But Father Oriole kept about his work, hunting 
for the little brown crawling things and the green 
crawling things that made their food. 

He would whistle every once in a while to tell 
Mother Oriole that he was near. Sometimes it 
was just a few notes to say : 

52 


53 


Tenth Night 

“ I’m still here— my dear, 

Still here, still here, still here.” 
Sometimes : 

“All right, my love !” 

Sometimes just : 

“All’s well!” 

But if a strange man came too near the tree his 
song was sharp and angry. 

“ Look out, look out, look out ! 

He’s a rogue, an awful rogue, look out, I say!” 
But somehow he didn’t seem to mind the 
children. 

“ Why does Mother Oriole sit so quietly on her 
nest?” Marmaduke asked his own mother. 

“ I wish I could lift you up so that you could see. 
But the nest is too high up. It’s out of harm’s way. 
Dicky Means, who has a cruel heart and robs birds’ 
nests, can’t reach it way up there ! ” 

“What’s in it, Muvver ?” asked little Hepzebiah. 
You see her little tongue didn’t work just right. 
She never could say words with “th” in them. 

“ Little eggs, dear. They are white, with little 
dark spots and funny dark scrawls on them as if 
somebody had tried to write with a bad pen.” 

Then Marmaduke asked: 


54 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


“And is she keeping them warm?” 

“ Yes, so that they will hatch out. They will, 
very soon now.” 

So for a number of days in the warm weather, 
and in the rainy weather too, Mother Oriole sat 
faithfully on her nest. Bird mothers and the 
mothers of little children are always very patient. 

Then came one fine morning when the sun was 
particularly jolly and bright, and the blossoms 
smelt very sweet and were beginning to fall from 
the trees. The three happy children stood under 
the elm and looked up at the tiny hanging nest. 

They heard new noises, strange noises. 

It sounded like babies. 

Yes, the little Oriole babies had broken their 
shells and had been born at last. 

They didn’t have many clothes on. But some 
day their feathers will be as pretty as their father’s. 

How they did cry for food! Somehow baby 
Orioles cry more than other bird babies. They 
seem to want to eat all the time. 

And how Father Oriole did work to keep them 
fed, whistling every once in a while to make things 
pleasant for his family ! I wonder if they appreciated 
all the things he and Mother Oriole did for them. 


55 


Tenth Night 

And the days passed and the little birds grew 
fatter on the bugs and the beetles which their 
father brought, just as fat as the little boys or 
girls on their oatmeal and bread and milk, which 
their fathers work hard to earn for them. 

The little Orioles were certainly noisy little 
birds, and when they cried sometimes the children 
saw funny little heads and beaks poking out of the 
nest. 

Then more days passed and Father and Mother 
Oriole taught them to fly, just as Father and Mother 
Green had taught little Hepzebiah to walk. Mar- 
maduke remembered how his Mother had held 
Hepzebiah and Father stood a little way off. Then 
Hepzebiah had started. She was a little frightened 
at first but she made the journey. It was only a 
few steps and her father caught her before she fell. 
She tried this often and soon she could take a great 
many steps. 

And that was something like the way Father 
and Mother Oriole taught their children to fly. 
The parent birds would fly to a branch a little way 
off. Then they would call the little birds. And 
one by one they would fly to the branch. Their 
wings were weak at first like Hepzebiah’s little feet. 


56 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


But soon they grew strong and before many weeks 
had gone they could fly as fast as the old birds. 
And before the summer was over they were as big 
as their parents. You see birds have shorter lives 
than real people. They do not live so many years. 
So they have to grow up quickly or they wouldn’t 
have much time for work and play, would they ? 

So the children decided that the story of the 
Orioles was a very pretty fairy story, indeed, and 
they liked it better because it was true. 

And they found others — oh, so many stories like 
it. 

For sometimes Mother and sometimes Father 
and sometimes the Toyman showed them other 
little bird homes. 

They climbed a ladder and found the barn- 
swallow’s nest plastered under the eaves of the 
barn. They liked the barn swallow who flew 
through the air, almost as if he were so happy that 
he danced as he flew. And his dress was so pretty, 
for he was dark blue on top, brown on the throat, 
and his little stomach was white. His tail was 
forked too, cut like the coat of the man in the 
circus who cracked the whip and made the horses 
perform tricks. 



“ Father and Mother Oriole taught them to fly.” 







57 


Tenth Night 

The barn swallow’s nest was so cunningly made. 
It was plastered of mud and grass, and had a soft 
grass lining. The little eggs in it were white and 
had tiny brown spots. 

Right near the bay window, in the thick lilac 
tree, Marmaduke spied Red Robin 's nest. He was a 
great friend of theirs. They always liked the cheery 
way he hopped over the lawn, and his cheery red 
vest, and his song which always said : 

“ Che-eer up— che-eer up ! ” 

His eggs were the prettiest of all, a greenish blue, 
a robin’s-egg blue, the dressmakers call it. Mother 
Green’s summer dress was coloured just like it. 

And in a bush by the roadside, Hepzebiah spied 
the brown thrush’s nest. His eggs were blue and 
spotted with brown. 

And in the elderberry tree they found the grey 
cat-bird’s nest. He was a funny bird, always cry- 
ing like a lost pussy. And his eggs were green-blue. 

So in the fields and the woods Jehosophat, 
Marmaduke and Hepzebiah saw all kinds of birds 
and all kinds of nests and all kinds of eggs. They 
saw them because their eyes were bright and sharp 
as yours must be too when you go into the beautiful 
country. 


58 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


And from the eggs funny little birds were born 
and grew up and flew and sang. 

And so the three happy children decided that 
the really true fairy stories of Mother Nature were 
the prettiest of all. 

And oh — we almost forgot! Perhaps we can 
tell the rest before that Little-Clock -with-the- 
Wise-Face-on-the-Mantel tells us to stop. 

Over near Neighbour Brown’s fence they were 
peeping through the green leaves at the song- 
sparrow’s nest. Mother was with them and 
they saw someone come out of their neighbour’s 
house. 

“Wouldn’t you like to see her?” the strange 
lady whispered to Mother. 

“Oh yes,” Mother whispered back, “but they 
mustn’t wake her up.” 

Who could they be talking about ? Then they 
went through the gate. 

“ Be very quiet,” said Mother as they entered 
the door, “and you’ll see the end of another true 
fairy story.” 

So they tiptoed in. 

There in a bed lay Mrs. Brown, looking very 
happy. 


59 


Tenth Night 

And curled up in her arm she had — well, what 
do you think she had ? 

A little sleeping baby ! 

Like the little Orioles Baby had been born just 
a few days ago. 

“That,” said Mother, “is the prettiest fairy 
story of all.” 

And the children thought so too. 

There — we’ve finished just in time. We hear 
the Little Clock. There goes his silver tongue 
now. 

Good-night ! Sweet Dreams. 


ELEVENTH NIGHT 

MOTHER HEN AND ROBBER HAWK 

\ 

Jehosophat and Marmaduke were whispering 
together. 

“ Let’s try it,” said Jehosophat. 

“An’ see what happens,” added Marmaduke. 

So they tiptoed into the House of the White 
Wyandottes and placed the big duck’s eggs in with 
the smaller eggs under the setting hen. 

Mother Hen did not like that, oh no ! 

She stirred in her nest. All her feathers puffed 
up and she looked very much hurt. 

“Duck, duck, duck!” sniffed she scornfully. 
And to herself she added: “What a mean way 
to treat a decent, respectable hen!” For White 
Wyandottes are very particular and very exclusive. 

But after the two little imps had tiptoed out of 
her house, she made the best of a bad matter. 
She couldn’t kick the big duck’s eggs out of the nest 
60 


6i 


Eleventh Night 

in the box. The sides of the box were too high. 
So she settled down on her eggs again. 

“I must keep my very own warm, anyway,” 
she decided. 

About three weeks later there was much excite- 
ment in the House of the White Wy andottes. F rom 
the nest in the box came little noises. 

“ Chip, chip, chip,” sounded faintly from inside 
the eggs. And before the sun climbed over the 
Big Gold Rooster, who swung on the weather- 
vane on the barn, all the new little chickens had 
broken their eggs. 

“ How nice it is to be born ! ” they cheeped to- 
gether in a merry chorus, as they arrived in the 
wonderful world. 

Very proud of her family was Mother Wyan- 
dotte when the little yellow balls began to run 
about. A few days later she was prouder still 
when they scampered this way and that, pecking 
at little bugs and ants. They worked hard for their 
breakfasts and dinners and suppers. 

Even Father Wyandotte, the great white rooster 
with the magnificent red comb and curling white 
plumes on his tail, forgot that other rooster of whom 
he was so jealous. For the rooster who was always 


62 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


perched on the weather-vane on the barn was up 
so high and he shone like gold. 

But now Father Wyandotte was not jealous. 
He walked around in his lordly way, cocking his 
eye at his little yellow sons and daughters as they 
chased the fat little bugs. 

At first he would not say just how proud of 
them he was. He did not like to tell all his feelings 
at once. Sometimes he thought fighting and crow- 
ing better than being a family man. But all of a 
sudden he flew up on the tallest fence-post he 
could find, and flapped his wings. He threw back 
his head, opened his yellow beak, and crowed up at 
that gold rooster: 

“Sure, sure, sure! You couldn’t do it, you 
couldn’t do it— couldn’t do it, do.” 

No, the Gold Rooster on the weather-vane on 
the top of the barn, though he shone like the sun, 
could neither crow nor raise a family. 

But Mother Wyandotte didn’t bother about 
anything so high in the sky as the sun and the 
rooster. She was busy playing nurse-maid to her 
little yellow children and helping them find food. 

But in the afternoon she did look up at the sky. 
That was when something like a dark shadow 


Eleventh Night 63 

sailed in the air far above the home of the White 
Wyandottes. 

It was a great bird with wide-stretched wings, 
much bigger than Jim Crow. He sailed in circles, 
while his evil eye looked down at the frightened, 
scampering White Wyandottes. 

“ Um ! ” How he would like a nice chicken for 
lunch ! 

“Robber Hawk!” called all of Mother Hen’s 
uncles and aunts in the barnyard. 

“Robber Hawk!” screamed all of her great- 
uncles and great-aunts too. 

“Robber Hawk!” screamed all of her cousins, 
first, second, and third. 

Loud and long barked Rover and Brownie. 
And little Wienerwurst stopped chasing the pretty 
pink pigeons. 

And even Mr. Stuckup, the turkey, had to join 
in the hubbub. 

“ Horrible robber, horrible robber,” he gobbled. 

But Mother Wyandotte had called to her children. 
She opened her wings and under them quickly 
in fright they ran, all huddling together. Her wings 
hardly seemed large enough to cover them all, but 
she took them all in, every one of her children. 


6 4 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


She was a nervous old thing, but she was a 
good mother, and good mother hens, good animal 
mothers, and our own mothers too, never seem to 
think of themselves when there is danger around. 
They just look out for their little ones. 

“Robber Hawk, robber! Shan’t touch ’em— 
robber ! ” she said. 

Then — quick as a wink — there was another loud 
noise, just like that day when Jim Crow fell in the 
cornfield. 

“Bang, bang!” 

Jehosophat, Marmaduke and Hepzebiah jumped. 

They looked around. 

There stood the Toyman with the gun at his 
shoulder. 

Little puffs of smoke like white feathers floated 
away from the muzzles of the gun. 

“Winged him, anyway!” cried the Toyman. 

They looked up. 

Robber Hawk wasn’t sailing in the sky any 
longer. 

He was falling, falling, like a stone — just like 
Jim Crow. 

“The Toyman’s a good shot,” exclaimed Jehoso- 
phat. “ My, how I wish I could shoot like that ! ” 



“The evil eye of Robber Hawk looked down at the frightened White Wyandottes.” 





65 


Eleventh Night 

Mother Green came to the back door. 

She called to the Toyman: 

“He’s fallen on the barn, Frank.” 

“Roof, roof, roof!” barked little Wienerwurst 
to explain it more clearly. 

Sure enough, Robber Hawk dropped on the roof 
of the barn, right by the Gold Rooster who swung 
on the weather-vane. 

The Toyman scratched his head. 

“ Quite a climb for these stiff legs,” said he. 

But he fetched a tall ladder and placed it against 
the side of the barn. 

The three children watched him, their heads 
bent back so far that they almost snapped off. 

Mother held the ladder at the foot, for nobody 
wanted anything ever to happen to the Toyman. 

“Careful!” she warned him. 

“All right, Mis’ Green,” he said. “I haven’t 
been up in the maintop for nothing.” 

You see, once upon a time, he had been a 
sailor. There was nothing that the Toyman hadn’t 
done. 

He reached the top of the ladder, then swung 
out on the roof. At last he reached the ridge. 

There stood the Gold Rooster, never crowing or 


66 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


saying anything at all. And under him lay Robber 
Hawk, and he didn’t say anything either. 

Carefully the Toyman climbed down from the 
ridge of the barn, holding the rascal in his hands. 
Then one by one down the rungs of the ladder he 
came. 

When he reached the ground Jehosophat, 
Marmaduke and Hepzebiah gathered round. 

Robber Hawk hung limp from the Toyman’s 
hand. 

His dark brown feathers never stirred. His 
white breast with its dark bars and patches never 
moved. 

“Robber Hawk,” spoke the Toyman, “your old 
curved beak will never feed on any more good 
chicken.” 

Then he turned to the children. 

“ We must bury him by Jim Crow.” 

So Jehosophat, Marmaduke, Hepzebiah, Rover, 
Brownie, Wienerwurst and the Toyman marched 
with Robber Hawk on towards the cornfield. 

There by the side of Jim Crow they buried 
him. 

And the Toyman took two pieces of wood. On 
these he cut with his knife : 


6 7 


Eleventh Night 


JIM CROW 


ROBBER HAWK 
KILLED 1918 
THIEF AND MURDERER 


KILLED 1918 
THIEF 


At their heads he placed the two boards side by 
side. 

“There we will leave them,” the Toyman spoke 
sternly, “ as a warning to all evil-doers.” 

So they walked back slowly to the House of 
the White Wyandottes where Mother Hen clucked 
contentedly once more and all the yellow chickens 
ran around, chasing the little bugs in their game of 
hide-and-seek. A fine game it was too, only it was 
more interesting for the chickens than the bugs, 
you see. 

The three happy children noticed that one of 
the little yellow fellows was larger than the others. 


He 


“ Ting — ting — ting — ting — ting — ting — ting ! ” 
“ End — that — tale — to — mor — row — night.” 
So says the Little Clock. He must be obeyed. 
So good-bye for a little while. 


TWELFTH NIGHT 

ABOUT DUCKIE THE STEPCHILD 
AND THE LITTLE SHIP 

In the door of the workshop stood the three 
happy children, watching the Toyman. 

It was one of the very nicest places on the whole 
farm. Tools of all sorts, bright and sharp, lay on 
the table. Lumber of every kind lay piled against 
the walls. The shelves were filled with cans of 
paint. All the colours of the rainbow were in those 
cans. The children could tell that by the pretty 
splashes of the paint dripping down their sides. 

Back and forth, back and forth swung the arms 
of the Toyman. He was very busy over some- 
thing — something very important it must be, for he 
never talked, only worked and whistled away. 

“Oh dear! I wish I knew what it was,” sighed 
Marmaduke. Anyway he knew it was something 
for them. Father Green had given the Toyman a 
68 


Twelfth Night 69 

holiday, all for himself, to do as he liked. And of 
course he’d make something for them. 

On the edge of the table was a vise, a big tool 
with iron jaws. In the iron jaws was a block of 
wood. The Toyman screwed the vise— very tight 
—so tight the wood couldn’t budge. Then he shaved 
this side of the block, then the other side, with a 
plane, a tool with a very sharp edge. Clean white 
shavings fell on the floor, some of them twisting 
like Hepzebiah’s curls. 

“I wonder what it’s going to be,” Marmaduke 
repeated. 

Jehosophat was pretty sure he knew. 

“ I’ll bet it’s a boat,” he said. 

The Toyman chuckled. 

“Right you are, Son. It’s the Good Ship — 
well, let’s see. All boats have a name, you know. 
What do you think would be a good name for a 
fine ship?” 

Jehosophat had one, right on the tip of his 
tongue. 

“The Arrow.” 

The Toyman thought this over. 

“ That isn’t bad,” said he. 

Then he turned to Marmaduke. 


70 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


“What’s your idea for a name, little chap?” 

Marmaduke thought and thought. He looked 
out through the door and saw the Party Bird, the 
vain Peacock, parading up and down, showing off 
its beautiful tail, and “ Peacock ” was the only name 
he could think of. 

Jehosophat laughed out loud. 

“ That’s no name for a boat.” 

And Marmaduke had to shout back — as little 
boys will, losing his temper : 

“’Tis too!" 

The Toyman stopped the quarrel, just as he al- 
ways did, with something pleasant or funny he said. 
Then he leaned over and picked up three chips of 
wood. 

“ I’ll write the names on these little chips,” he 
explained, “and we’ll choose.” 

Putting his hand on Hepzebiah’s sunny curls, he 
asked that little girl : 

“ What name do you think would be nice for the 
boat?” 

Now Hepzebiah really didn’t know just what it 
all was about. But she had heard Marmaduke 
say “ Peacock,” so she took her finger out of her 
mouth just long enough to point at the Guinea- 


Twelfth Night 71 

hen, who was screeching horribly out in the barn- 
yard. 

“The Guinea-hen! Ha, ha! That’s a good 
one!” The Toyman was forever saying that and 
laughing at the funny things the children said. 

Hepzebiah, thinking that this was a nice sort of 
a game, took her finger out of her mouth and 
pointed again— this time out at the pond where the 
swans were sailing, like pretty white ships them- 
selves. 

“The very thing,” exclaimed the Toyman. 
White Swan’s a fine name for a boat ! ” 

And he wrote “White Swan” on one chip, 
“Peacock” on another, and “Arrow” on the last. 
Then he held them towards the children. 

“The smallest must choose first,” he said, and 
Hepzebiah took one of the little white pieces of 
wood from the Toyman’s hand. He turned it over 
and read : 

“White Swan.” 

“We’d go a good ways before we’d get a better 
name,” he decided. “ When the boat’s all finished 
and all sails set, she’ll sail away just like a swan; 
you see if she doesn’t.” 

The hull of the boat was finished now, and on 


72 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


the bow, at the very front, he nailed a thin little 
stick, with tiny nails. This was the bowsprit. 

On the keel at the very bottom, he fastened a 
piece of lead so she wouldn’t “turn turtle”— turn 
over, he meant, when her sails were set and the 
wind blew too hard. 

Then choosing some sticks — very carefully, for 
they must be straight— he tucked the boat under 
his arm and, with the three children close at his 
heels, walked over to the pond and sat down under 
the Crying Tree, where the sun shone bright and 
warm. 

Out came the magic knife and he whittled away 
at the little sticks; whittled and whistled and smiled 
all the time. 

Sliver after sliver of the wood fell on the 
ground. Sometimes one would drop into the water 
and float away like a fairy canoe, with the green 
willow leaves that fell from the Crying Tree. 

So under the magic knife the little ship grew 
and grew, till the masts were fitted too, and set fast 
and tight in the clean smooth deck. 

“But where are the sails?” asked Jehosophat 
impatiently. 

A funny answer the Toyman made. 


73 


Twelfth Night 

He just said: 

“ Hold your horses, Sonny.” 

The teacher in the Red Schoolhouse up the 
road would have reproved him for this, but the 
children thought whatever the Toyman said was 
all right. 

Of course he meant not to be too impatient and 
— but just then the dinner horn sounded, way out 
over the pond and over the fields, and the children 
ran into the house, just as you would have done too. 

It didn’t take long to finish dinner that day. 
For desert they had blackberry pie, very juicy and 
nice, and they didn’t even wait to wash the red 
marks of that pie from their faces but just ran for 
the Crying Tree. 

The Toyman felt in all of his six big pockets. 
And out came needles and thread, and pieces of 
clean muslin besides. 

Stitch, stitch, stitch went his fingers, for a 
thousand stitches or more. And bye and bye the 
sails were all cut and sewed and fitted on the three 
little masts. 

Then the Toyman stopped. 

“ We haven’t christened her yet,” he said. “ We 
should have done that long ago.” 


74 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


In his pockets he rummaged again, those 
pockets which always held just the right thing. It 
was a small bottle this time, all filled with tiny pink 
pills. Much nicer these were, the children thought, 
than that yellow stuff in the big bottle they 
hated so. 

The Toyman poured the little pills out. 

“ What’s the use of medicine on a nice day like 
this,” said he. 

And he filled the bottle with water and put 
back the stopper. 

“When ships are launched,” he explained, “folks 
break a bottle over the bow when they name her.” 

“All right, I’ll do that,” said Jehosophat, but 
the Toyman stopped him. 

“ Hold on there, Sonny, that’s the ladies' job.” 

Then he called Hepzebiah and gave her the 
bottle. 

“Now, little girl, you stand here and say: ‘I 
christen thee White Swan.’ ” 

But, “ I ckwithen Wite Thwan ” was the best she 
could do. 

“ Now drop the bottle ! ” 

She opened her fingers and, sure enough, the little 
bottle fell right on the deck and broke all in little 


75 


Twelfth Night 

pieces, and the glistening drops splashed over the 
bow, and so the good ship “ White Swan ” got her 
name. 

Into the water the Toyman pushed the little 
ship. The wind filled her sails and off she went, 
racing away before the wind to join the beautiful 
birds for whom she had been named. 

Around the pond and over the bridge went the 
Toyman, to the other side. When the ship reached 
the opposite shore he swung it around and sent it 
back on the return voyage. The “ White Swan ” 
had reached port safely, when the Toyman said : 

“ It’s funny what different opinions folks have. 
Some like the water and some don’t. Now the swans 
and the ducks, and that little ship, and the fish, and 
the froggies, and Uncle Roger, and you and I, we 
think it’s fine. But Mr. Stuck-up, and Miss Cross- 
patch, and Old Mother Wyandotte, and Mis’ Fizzel- 
tree, why they won’t go near it at all.” 

“That is funny,” said Jehosophat. 

Then the Toyman added : 

“Just listen to that.” 

Old Mother Wyandotte was right near them, 
clucking in fright. 

“ Don’t— don’t— don’t you do it!” she was calling 


76 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


to one of her children who was looking longingly at 
the cool pond. 

Around her were all her children, fast growing 
up now. They were all soft and white but one. 
Like good little chickens they were looking for bugs, 
all but one. 

He was the little fellow they had noticed before, 
.the funny little fellow with a longer bill than the 
rest, and the odd-looking feet. His soft downy back 
was turning black. And he was starting for that 
pretty water shining in the pond. 

Jehosophat looked him all over. 

“Why, he looks like a duck.” 

“ What did you expect ? ” laughed the Toyman. 
“ He is a duck. Old Mother Wyandotte thinks he’s 
her child, but he’s only a step-child. Ha! Ha! 
Somebody must have put another egg in her nest.” 

Over in the garden were pretty flowers called 
Bleeding Hearts. They were very pink, and Jehoso- 
phat’s face turned the very same colour. Well he 
knew who had stolen into the House of the White 
Wyandottes and put that big duck’s egg under Old 
Mother Hen. And now it had turned out a real 
little duckling, that black little fellow Mother 
Wyandotte was scolding so. 



“The wind filled the sails of the little ship and off she went.” 










Twelfth Night 77 

“ Don’t— don’t— don’t— don’t you do it,” she was 
shouting still. 

But little black Duckie had made up his mind. 
He was headed straight for that shining water. 

Around Mother Wyandotte gathered all her 
relatives to talk over the matter. They were dis- 
gusted. That one of their family should disgrace 
them so ! 

“Respectable chickens spend their time on the 
ground,” said Granny Wyandotte with a toss of 
her comb, “ and never, never get wet, if they can 
help it, not even their feet.” 

“True— true— quite true,” all the Wyandotte 
Aunties agreed. 

But their second cousins and the third cousins 
too, the ducks and the geese and the swans, said 
they were wrong. 

“ Little Duckie’s a sensible chap. What better 
place can there be to play in than that nice cool 
pond?” 

And all the fishes swimming around, from the 
big pickerel down to the littlest “minnie,” waggled 
their fins and tails to show they agreed too, while 
the froggies on the lily -pad croaked : 

“ Gomme on — gomme on ! ” 


78 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


They were giving little Duckie a warm invitation 
to play in the water, you see. 

Duckie was right at the edge now and Mother 
Hen, who was really his step-mother, made one last 
appeal, but the ducks one and all called : 

“ Back, back, back ! ” 

They weren’t talking to Duckie. They meant 
the White Wyandottes. They were taking his 
part, you see, though not for one minute did they 
guess he was their child, their very own. 

Duckie appreciated that too. Perhaps Old 
Father Drake, the head of all the Duck family, 
wouldn’t let Step-father Wyandotte punish him 
that night if he did try the water. 

I don’t believe Step-father Wyandotte really 
cared, very much. At first he was a little mad 
but, after scolding a little, he shouted : 

“ Through, through, through— I’m through with 
yooooooouuu.” 

He wouldn’t have anything more to do with 
little Duckie. I guess he suspected he was just a 
step-child after all. So he just grumbled to himself 
as he speared a fat tumble-bug with his beak : 

“Ur, ur— I don’t care!” 

He had enough children anyway. But the Gold 


79 


Twelfth Night 

Rooster on the top of the barn looked down, laugh- 
ing at him. He couldn’t really laugh, you know, 
or flap his wings, but he swung from west to 
southwest and back again, as if to say : 

“ I knew it. I knew it. They fooled you ! ” 

Old Father Drake, the head of the duck family, 
started for the water. Mother Duck and all the 
little ducks went in too. They were going to show 
Duckie the way. 

He just couldn’t stand it any longer. So— 
plopp — in he went and paddled around after the 
others, and ducked his head under the water to 
catch his dinner, just as a real duckling should. 

“Better than grubbing for bugs in the dirty 
earth, this nice clean cool water,” quacked he, and 
he was as happy as happy could be. 

The Toyman was looking at him with a smile 
on his face. 

“He’s just like me,” he said at last, and 
the children, surprised at that, asked all to- 
gether: 

“Who's like you?” 

“ That little duck there.” 

“Like you!” Jehosophat shouted. “Why he 
doesn’t look like you at all ! ” 


80 Seven O’Clock Stories 

The Toyman puffed away on his corncob pipe 
before he answered : 

“ Oh inside he’s the same. I was just like him 
when I was a kid. I had a step-mother, too, and 
she and all the step-uncles and aunts scolded and 
scolded, and whipped me besides, because / wanted 
to go to sea on a great big ship.” 

“ What did you do ? ” 

They didn’t really need to ask that question, for 
hadn’t the Toyman been most everywhere, and 
hadn’t he told them many a story about the great 
sea and the ships? 

“Yes, they all said I would drown or become a 
wicked bad man.” 

Marmaduke thought he would like to do some- 
thing to those step-uncles and aunts who treated 
the Toyman so badly. 

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” 
he shouted. “You’re good as anybody in the 
world.” 

“ Thank you, little feller,” replied the Toyman, 
patting his head. “But they said I would, just 
the same. They talked just like those old Wyan- 
dottes there. 

“But I fooled them all,” he went on. “And one 


8i 


Twelfth Night 

night, when it was dark, just a few stars out, I 
climbed out of bed and j umped out of the window 
and ran away. 

“I walked and I walked, miles and miles, till I 
came to a big town by the sea. There were lots of 
big ships at the docks, and I asked a man, with a 
great big beard, to take me too. So he took me on 
board, and I was a little cabin boy. But bye and 
bye I got to be a real sailor, and I sailed all over 
the world in the ship, and saw lots of people, yellow, 
and black, and brown, and funny places and queer 
houses and ” 

“Be careful, Frank!” 

They all turned at once. There was Mother, 
standing right near them. All the time she had 
been listening, near the Crying Tree. 

“Now, Frank,” she repeated, “be careful or 
you’ll put notions in those children’s heads, and 
some day they’ll be running away from me .” 

Still she didn’t look cross, and she smiled at the 
Toyman, especially when he answered: 

“ Not from a mother like you, Mis’ Green. How 
about it, kiddies?” 

And Marmaduke and Jehosophat were very 
sure they never could run away— not even to sea 


82 Seven O’Clock Stories 

in a beautiful ship. So they kissed her and hugged 
her too. 

Now the froggies were singing their evening 
song. The sun was getting close to his home in 
the west. Little Duckie and his real mother and 
father came out of the water and waddled off 
towards the barn. The Swans folded their wings 
and came to the shore. So the Toyman brought 
the ship to the harbour and anchored her for the 
night. 


THIRTEENTH NIGHT 


THE TALL ENEMY 

It was the first snowfall. The grey sky was 
filled with little white feathers dancing down- 
down— down. 

“ Look at the snowflakes,” exclaimed the three 
happy children, all in one breath. 

“Yes,” said their Mother, “the snow has come. 
In the spring and summer Mother Earth works 
very hard. It takes so much of her strength, feed- 
ing the millions of plants from her brown breast. 
By fall she is very tired and in winter she takes 
things quite easy. 

“Then the gentle Rain Fairy feels sorry for 
Mother Earth. She turns her own tears to snow- 
flakes, and scatters them over her. They weave a 
soft white comforter to keep her warm. And it 
keeps the seed babies, sleeping in Mother Earth’s 
brown breast, all snug and warm too.” 

83 


8 4 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


All that day and all night the snow fell. And 
all the next day and the next night— and the third 
day and the third night too. 

Then all of a sudden it stopped, and the three 
happy children woke in the morning, and looked 
out of the window. 

“Why the snow’s most as high as Wienerwurst’s 
house!” cried Jehosophat. 

Then they all trooped in to breakfast. 

“We will make forts,” said Jehosophat. 

“ Hooray ! ” exclaimed Marmaduke. 

“ The very thing ! ” added Mother. 

And Wienerwurst, curled up by the rosy kitchen 
stove, barked, “Woof, woof, woof.” 

Now this means a lot of things. But this time 
it meant, “ Good, good, good.” 

So the three happy children hurried through 
their oatmeal. They hurried so fast that they 
had three little pains. Jehosophat had one right 
under his belt, Marmaduke one in the centre 
of his blouse, Hepzebiah one under her little 
red waist. 

Mother came in from the kitchen. She looked 
at the empty bowls. 

“ What ! All gone already ! Look out or you’ll 


Thirteenth Night 85 

each have to take a big table-spoonful of the 
yellow stuff in that bottle.” 

There it stood, on the kitchen mantel. She 
pointed right at it. They hated it worse than most 
anything in the world. 

“ I’m all right,” said Jehosophat ; and 

“ I’m not sick,” protested Marmaduke ; and 

“ Pain’s all gone,” cried Hepzebiah. 

It was funny how the sight of that bottle 
frightened the three little pains away. 

Mother smiled. It was a funny smile. Then 
she said: 

“Now, on with your things!” 

Jehosophat sat on the floor and pulled on his 
new rubber boots, which reached almost to his 
waist. On the stool sat Marmaduke, putting 
on his, and Mother helped little Hepzebiah with 
her wee little ones. 

Over Jehosophat’s head went a red sweater, 
over Marmaduke ’s a green, and over Hepzebiah’s 
curls one of blue. Then wristlets and mittens and 
coats and caps, and out into the deep white snow 
they tramped. 

“Forward march!” said a voice. 

They looked. It was the Toyman. 


86 


Seven O’Clock Stories 

“The enemy is about to attack,” he explained 
sternly. 

“Where’s the enemy?” 

“You can’t see them. But they’re advancing 
fast. Up with the fort. Double quick ! ” 

So at double quick they marched to the barn- 
yard, and began work with their shovels. 

My! how they dug! Fast flew the snow. And 
the Toyman packed it down hard, and shaped it 
into the walls of a big strong fort. 

It was odd, too, how the Toyman could find time 
to help. For he had lots of work to do. But then 
the enemy was coming ! 

Rover and Brownie and Wienerwurst scampered 
around in the snow. They were not of much helo. 
All they did was to bark — bark — bark. 

“ Hush ! ” commanded the Toyman. “ We must 
keep quiet so the enemy won’t know where we 
are.” 

So they dug and they dug and packed the 
snow hard. Soon the walls were as high as 
Jehosophat’s shoulders, and the fort was all 
ready. 

The Toyman stopped and said : 

“ Now for the ammunition.” 


87 


Thirteenth Night 

“What’s ammunition?’ 

“Watch.” 

The Toyman took a handful of snow and 
crushed it hard between both hands. When he 
had finished he opened his fingers. In his palm was 
a round white ball. Then another he made and 
another. And the three little soldiers, Jehosophat, 
Marmaduke, and Hepzebiah, made lots too. They 
piled them in the comer of the fort, until they had 
a heap like the iron balls around the cannon in the 
town park. 

“Now,” commanded the Toyman. “March to 
the barracks and get warm” (he pointed at the 
house). “I’ll watch and call when the enemy 
comes.” 

Into the house they went, and dried their mittens 
and warmed their hands. And each had a cup of 
nice warm milk. 

After a while there was a loud knock at the 
door, and the sound of a horn. 

Mother opened the door a little way. 

The horn sounded again- Then the voice spoke 
loudly : 

“ Fall in,” it said. “ The enemy comes J" 

Quickly the three little soldiers put on their 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


mittens and caps, and buttoned their coats, and 
hurried to the fort. 

They looked around. They could not see any- 
body with a horn. And the Toyman was gone. 

Over the walls of the fort they peeked. 

There stood six soldiers staring at them. The 
six soldiers stood very still. They were all white, 
but their eyes were black like pieces of coal, and 
they stared Hard at the three little soldiers within 
the fort. Over their shoulders were six long round 
things. 

“Guns,” said Jehosophat. 

They looked around for the Toyman. He did 
not come. Their hearts beat fast. 

“ We’re not afraid,” shouted Jehosophat at the 
white soldiers. “ Come on, you enemy ! ” 

With that they heard a sound far off. 

Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. 

“What’s that?” cried the smallest little soldier. 
And Captain Jehosophat answered : 

“Drums, drums, 

“The enemy comes!” 

Then he laughed. He had made a rhyme with- 
out thinking anything about it. 

But he stopped laughing. It was no time for 


89 


Thirteenth Night 

play. There was hard work ahead. Those six 
white soldiers in front of the fort were ready to 
attack. And there were more coming. 

“Load!” he commanded. 

Each little soldier took up a snowball. 

Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. 

The drums sounded nearer now. 

Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. 

Around the house came the sound of the drum. 

Over the walls of the fort they peeked— very 
carefully. 

There was a man marching. He looked some- 
thing like the Toyman. But could it be? No, for 
he was so changed. The man had a horn around 
his neck, and a feather in his hat, and his face was 
stern. He was whistling “Yankee Doodle.” It 
sounded like a fife, and all the time he was beating 
the drum with all his might. 

Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. 

On through the snow the Tall Enemy marched. 
He reached the six white soldiers who stood so still, 
with their guns over their shoulders. 

He stopped and called out to the three little 
soldiers in the fort in a loud voice : 

“SURRENDER OR WE ATTACK!” 


90 


Seven O’Clock Stories 

“ Never /” was the brave answer of Captain 
Jehosophat. 

"Fire/" he commanded. 

Then he let a snowball fly. 

He hit the Tall Enemy right in the face. 

Then Marmaduke let another snowball fly. 

That hit one of the white soldiers and knocked 
his black eye out. 

And Hepzebiah threw her snowball. She tried 
very hard. But it didn’t go very far and didn’t do 
any damage. 

Jehosophat looked worried at that. He couldn’t 
depend on Hepzebiah at all. That left but two of 
them— against so many— and on came the Tall Ene- 
my with the feather in his cap, still beating his drum. 

Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. 

The little soldiers must fight bravely now. 

Fast flew the snowballs. 

He was very near. . 

Then Marmaduke picked up the last snowball. 
He took good aim for it was the last of their 
ammunition. Then he let it fly. It hit the Tall 
Enemy Man right over his heart. 

He fell in the snow. 

“ You’ve done for me ! ” he called in a weak voice. 



u On through the snow the tall enemy marched.” 








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Thirteenth Night 91 

Then the three little soldiers shouted and ran 
out of the fort. 

There in the snow lay the dying enemy. 

“You’ve won,” he said in a sad voice. “I sur- 
render.” 

“Hurrah, we’ve won!” they shouted. Then 
they stopped. They felt very sorry for the enemy, 
for after all he had been very brave. 

They bent over him. 

Then something happened. All of a sudden the 
enemy seized the three little soldiers in his arms. 

And he laughed ! Yes, laughed. 

And hugged them all at once. 

And the three little soldiers laughed happily too. 
For the Tall Enemy had been the Toyman all the 
time and the six silent soldiers were only made of snow. 

Behind his heels they trudged into the house. 
But the Toyman had to carry the littlest soldier in 
his arms. She was very cold and very tired. 

But the three happy children ate a very good 
dinner and a very good supper too, that day, for 
they were very hungry. And they had earned it 
after the brave fight in the fort. 

“Ting-ting.” He’s always on time, that Little 
Clock. So Good-night ! 


FOURTEENTH NIGHT 

THE SLEIGH AND THE TINY REINDEER 

Marmaduke had played too long in the snow. 

He was very wet. 

He was very cold. 

And he felt very funny and hot all over. 

“ Mother, my throat’s got a rubber ball stuck in 
it,” he said. 

Mother looked at it. 

“No, dear, there’s no rubber ball there, but your 
throat’s all swollen and there are little spots in it. 
You mustn’t get up today.” 

Marmaduke lay very still for a while. Soon he 
heard sleigh-bells tinkling past the window, then far 
down the road. Father had hitched Teddy, the 
buckskin horse, to the big sleigh and was going for 
the Doctor. 

Away ticked the clock. After a while — a long 
time it seemed— Marmaduke heard the sleigh-bells 
92 


93 


Fourteenth Night 

again, at first far off, then coming nearer and 
nearer, until they jingled before the porch— then 
stopped. He heard voices and the sound of feet 
upon the porch, shaking off the snow. 

The door opened and into the bedroom came 
the Doctor. He had a face all rosy from the cold. 
His eyes were black and so sharp that they looked 
right through Marmaduke. But they were kind 
eyes and his voice had a pleasant chuckle in it. 
The Doctor came and sat on the edge of the bed. 
“ Well, well ! How’s my little soldier ? Wounded 
in the battle or just playing possum ?” 

Then Marmaduke opened his eyes. 

After the Doctor had talked a while about lots of 
different things, before Marmaduke knew it, there 
was something like a spoon or a shoe-horn in his 
throat and the Doctor was telling him to say “ Ah ! ” 
“This isn’t school,” thought Marmaduke, “why 
does he make me say that ? ” 

But he forgot to be frightened, for the Doctor 
was saying so many funny things all the time. 

Then he opened his black bag. It was full of 
little bottles, packed neatly in rows. Marmaduke 
wished he would forget and leave it behind. It 
would be fine to play with. 


94 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


Mother brought two glasses and the Doctor 
poured some drops from one bottle into a glass, 
then from another bottle into another glass. And 
he said something to Mother in a low voice— 
Marmaduke could not hear what it was — then he 
patted the little soldier on the head and said 
good-bye. 

Again the sleigh-bells sounded and away he 
drove. 

But the sleigh-bells never stopped. They kept 
sounding all the night, long after Teddy was back 
in his stall and the big sleigh was in the shed. You 
see Marmaduke was very sick and “out of his 
head.” 

Seven days passed and seven nights. He began 
to feel better, but he was very lonely, for Jehoso- 
phat and Hepzebiah had gone to Uncle Roger’s to 
stay while he was sick. 

Very small he felt in the big bed in the front 
room, and very, very lonely. He looked out of 
the window at the big elms. They were covered 
with white snow like fur. There were many trees 
standing in rows. The path between them looked 
like a white road leading up over the hill to the 
sky. 


95 


Fourteenth Night 

He wished he had someone to talk to. 

Just then he heard a noise at the door. 

“Tap, tap, tap.” 

It opened just a little. 

“ Who’s there? ” said Marmaduke. 

The door opened wider. And he saw the Toy- 
man’s kind face. 

“Hello, little soldier.” 

“’Llo, Toyman,” replied the little boy, and his 
voice sounded very small and very weak. 

The Toyman sat by the bed a while. Then he 
got up and stirred the fire. Showers of pretty 
gold and red sparks scampered up the chimney. 
After that he spread a paper on the floor, not far 
from the fire-place. 

Then his pockets he searched, those big pockets 
which Mother said were always like five and ten 
cent stores, they were so full of things. 

Out came some pieces of wood. Out came 
his knife— that magic knife with the five blades. 
Marmaduke was always glad when he saw that 
knife for then something nice was sure to happen. 

Up came the big blade and snapped back. And 
the Toyman began to whittle, whittle away. Some- 
times he used the big blade, sometimes the small one. 


96 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


Marmaduke watched him, all eyes. 

And as the Toyman whittled sometimes he 
whistled, and sometimes he sang a funny song in a 
funny voice. You see he could make rhymes as 
well as toys. 

And this is what he sang : 

THE TOYMAN’S SONG 

1 

“When a little boy’s sick 
And stays in bed, 

And things feel queer 
Inside his head. 

2 

“ He cannot work, 

He cannot play ; 

It’s hard to pass 
The time away. 

3 

“Don’t make much fuss 
An’ talk a lot ; 

No questions ask 

’Bout what he’s got. 


97 


Fourteenth Night 

4 

“ They’ll ask him that 
When Doctor comes, 

So just sit still 

Like good, ole chums. 

5 

“ An’ take your knife 
An’ make him toys — 

This knife knows what 
Will please small boys. 

6 

“ Horses and lions, 

An’ tops and rings, 

An’ kites and ships, 

An’ pretty things. 

7 

“We’ll paint ’em red 
An’ yeller an’ blue. 

Work away, ole knife, 

He’s watchin’ you!” 

That’s a new song and a very nice one, thought 
Marmaduke, as he watched the Toyman whittling 
away by the red fire. 


98 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


The little white slivers and shavings covered 
the paper now. He couldn’t see just what that 
knife was making. But that was nice, too, for then 
it would be a surprise. And there’s nothing finer 
in the world than a real, beautiful surprise. 

Then his head grew very tired, and his eyes began 
to droop till they were tight shut and he fell asleep. 

The Toyman looked at him and smiled. 

“Poor little feller!” he said. Then he closed 
his knife, and picked up the paper and the shavings 
and the surprise, and out of the room he tiptoed. 

Out to the workshop he went, and opened the door. 

On the shelves were brushes of different sizes 
and cans of paint of all colours. 

He took down three of the cans, humming to 
himself : 

“ We’ll paint ’em red 
An’ yeller an’ blue.” 

“A little brown would go well too,” he added 
as he took down another can. 

He worked away with his paint brushes until 
the surprise was finished. Then he placed it on the 
work-table to dry. 

The next afternoon there was another tap at 
the bedroom door. 
















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99 


Fourteenth Night 

But Marmaduke didn’t answer. He was taking 
his afternoon nap. So the Toyman slipped in and 
put the surprise at the foot of the bed. After that 
he sat by the fire, watching the little sick soldier. 
He sat very still, stirring the embers just once in 
a while to keep the room warm. 

At last Marmaduke opened his eyes, a little at 
first, then wider. 

The very first thing that he saw at the bottom 
of the bed was a tiny sleigh. The body was bright 
blue and the runners were red. And what do 
you think — in front, hitched to it, were two tiny 
brown reindeer with yellow horns! They looked 
so much alive that Marmaduke thought any min- 
ute they would start running away— away over 
the comforter, out of the window, and up the snow- 
covered hill. 

The Toyman came over to the bed. Marma- 
duke curled his little fingers around his friend’s 
hand. The hand was brown and hard, but it was a 
nice hand, Marmaduke thought. 

“ We’re good ole chums, aren’t we ? ” he said to 
the Toyman. 

“You bet we are,” the Toyman answered 


FIFTEENTH NIGHT 

JACK FROST AND THE MAN-IN-THE-MOON 

Once, twice, thrice nodded Marmaduke’s head. 

The red flames of the fire kept dancing, danc- 
ing all the time. Very bright looked the little 
sleigh at the foot of the bed, very brave the tiny 
reindeer. 

But look ! Something moved— just a little. 

The “nigh” little reindeer was stamping his 
foot and tossing his antlers. 

And the other little reindeer tossed his horns 
and stamped his foot too. 

On their backs the sleigh-bells jingled, merrily 
like fairy bells. 

The red and blue sleigh moved a little — j ust a little. 

It began to slide slowly, over the comforter. 

Marmaduke was worried. He didn’t want the 
pretty sleigh and the reindeer to run away. He 
might never see them again. 


ioo 


Fifteenth Night XOX 

“Wait!” he shouted. 

“ Whoa— you villains ! ” It was a strange little 
voice that ordered the reindeer. 

The red and blue sleigh stopped short. 

Marmaduke rubbed his eyes. 

The strange little voice spoke again. 

“Jump in,” it said. 

And there in the front seat of the toy sleigh sat 
a funny little chap, about as big as the Toyman’s 
thumb — no bigger. He wore a pointed cap that 
shone like tinsel on a Christmas tree. He wore a 
white coat that sparkled too. 

“ Who are you ? ” asked the little sick boy. 
“That’s my sleigh. You shan’t run off with it.” 

And the funny voice under the white cap 
answered : 

“Jump in, then, and take a ride.” 

“Tell me who you are, first,” Marmaduke in- 
sisted. 

“ My name’s Jack.” 

“Jack what?” 

“Jack Frost— you ougnt to know that /” 

Tinkle, tinkle went the bells. The reindeer 
lifted their hoofs higher and pawed at the com- 
forter. They shook their antlers impatiently. 


102 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


The little driver jumped up and down in the seat 
as if he were sitting on pins and needles. 

More worried than ever was Marmaduke. 

“How can I get in that sleigh?” he asked the 
imp of a stranger. “I’m too big.” 

The little chap only chuckled. It was a very 
mischievous chuckle. Then he said : 

“Take a good look at yourself.” 

Marmaduke did. 

My, how he had shrunk ! He was no bigger than 
a brownie, no bigger himself than the Toyman’s 
thumb. 

“ How did that happen ? ” he said, 

“ Oh, the dream fairy did that,” said Jack. “ She 
likes to play tricks on people. It’s lots of fun. 
But shake a leg, shake a leg ! ” 

With that he shook the reins himself, and the 
bells jingled again, and the reindeer grew more 
eager every second, snorting impatiently. 

Once more Marmaduke looked down at himself. 
No, his eyes had made no mistake. He was small 
enough now to sit on that little red seat with the 
tiny driver. 

So he popped out from the covers. The folds 
of the blanket looked as big as mountains, the 


103 


Fifteenth Night 

lumps of the comforter as high as the hills. Over 
them he scrambled and he sprawled till he reached 
the little red and blue sleigh. 

Then he jumped in. 

The driver could be very impudent* but he took 
good care of Marmaduke just the same, for the 
boy had been very sick and might catch cold. So 
Jack pulled the white robe over his passenger’s 
knees, and tucked him in all snug and warm. 

“ Gee-up, gee-up ! ” he called to the tiny reindeer. 

Marmaduke was frightened. What a horrible 
crash there would be when they slid from the high 
bed to the floor. 

But nothing like that happened at all. Away 
off the bed, over the bright rag carpet, and past the 
red fire, safely and swiftly they trotted. Below 
the window they paused. Pretty silver ferns and 
trees covered the panes and sparkled in the fire- 
light. The window was closed, but that did not 
matter at all. 

“ Up with you ! ” yelled Jack Frost. 

Slowly, as if by magic, up went the window sash ! 
Over the sill galloped the reindeer. And after 
them ran the toy sleigh with Jack Frost and 
Marmaduke on the red seat. 


104 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


Over the porch, too, they went. 

Then something did happen. 

“Now look at yourself,” said Jack Frost, crack- 
ing his whip. 

Marmaduke did not hear him at first. He was 
admiring that whip. It was only a long icicle, and 
all Jack had to do was to touch the reindeer with 
its point to make them run faster and faster. 

“ Look at yourself,” he repeated. 

Marmaduke obeyed. 

“ Why, I’m as big as I used to be ! ” 

Jack laughed and replied : 

“The dream fairy does love to play tricks on 
folks!” 

Yes, the sleigh had grown as large as his father’s 
sleigh ; the reindeer as big as Teddy, the buckskin 
horse. The tossing horns were as high as the rein- 
deer’s in the Zoo, and Jack Frost was as big as 
Jehosophat now. 

“ I’m sorry that Jehosophat and Hepzebiah are 
not along,” said Marmaduke to himself, “they’re 
going to miss some fun.” 

He looked ahead through the trees. Up over 
the hill the snow path stretched— up to the dark 
blue sky and the stars. Millions of them there 


Fifteenth Night 105 

were and they were all twinkle-winking at him. 
And the Old Man-in-the-Moon, just over the hill, 
kept winking at him too. 

Jack Frost turned to Marmaduke. 

“Where would you like to go most ?” 

Marmaduke didn’t need to think, he had his 
answer all ready. 

“I’d like to visit the Old Man-in-the Moon.” 

“It’s a bit of a drive,” replied Jack, “but Old 
Yellow Horns and Prancing Hoof are fast goers. 
Gee-up ! Gee-up ! ” he shouted at them, touching 
their flanks with the icicle whip. So fast they went 
they scarcely seemed to touch the snow, and on up 
the hill they rode towards the laughing Man-in- 
the-Moon. 

Then suddenly there came such a barking, a 
yelping, a neighing, a mooing, a clucking, a gobbling, 
a squealing, a squawling, as you never heard before. 

Around jerked Marmaduke ’s head. 

There, behind the sleigh, running and leaping 
and paddling and waddling and frisking and 
scampering came a strange procession. There 
were Rover and Brownie and little Wienerwurst, 
Teddy and Methusaleh and all the horses, Prim- 
rose, Daisy, Buttercup, Black-Eyed Susan and all 


106 Seven O’Clock Stories 

the cows. He could see their tongues hanging out 
—it was so hard to keep up with the dogs and the 
horses. 

“ Moo— moo, slow— slow ! ” called the poor cows. 

And behind them ambled the sheep and the 
curley -tailed pigs; waddled the ducks and the 
geese ; Miss Crosspatch, the Guinea Hen, and Mr. 
Stuckup, the turkey; and, at the very end, all 
of the White Wyandottes,— the fathers and the 
mothers, and the little yellow children, and their 
grandfathers and grandmothers, and all their 
uncles and aunts, and their cousins, first, second, 
and third— every last one of them. 

My— what a fuss and a clatter they made ! 

There was a long long line of them, stretching 
down the hill and down the white road over the 
snow. 

Marmaduke laughed and exclaimed to Jack 
Frost: 

“ Why, they look just like the procession of the 
animals when they came out of the Ark.” 

“Yes, I remember them,” replied Jack. “And 
Old Noah too. I used to pinch their ears and pull 
their tails o’ nights.” 

Marmaduke looked surprised. 


107 


Fifteenth Night 

“You! Why, that was hundreds of years ago! 
You can’t be as old as all that.” 

But Jack only smiled a superior smile. 

“Sure I am. Why I’m as old as the world !” 

“Old as that Man-in-the-Moon ? ” continued 
Marmaduke, and the odd little fellow replied : 

“Just as old.” 

Marmaduke looked up at the moon sailing far 
above them. And the old man, sitting there on 
the moon-mountain, nodded as much as to say 
that Jack was quite right. 

Now the sleigh reached the top of the hill just 
where it touches the sky. 

Surely there they would stop. 

But no 

“This sleigh can run on air just as well as on 
snow,” the odd little driver explained. 

Another touch of the icicle whip, a jingle of 
bells, a snort from the reindeer, and they were off 
— off through the air towards the sailing moon. 

Marmaduke was so interested in looking up 
that he didn’t see little Wienerwurst run ahead of 
all the animals. That doggie beat them all to the 
top of the hill. And when he came to the top he 
just jumped out in the air and landed safe on the 


/ 


108 Seven O’Clock Stories 

runner of the sleigh, and curled up there and hid 
and didn’t make any noise. 

It was very clear high up in the air, and 
Marmaduke looked down. 

The houses had shrivelled all up. As small as 
Wienerwurst’s own little house they seemed. And 
the trees were as small as plants in the garden. 

He looked down again. The earth was far 
below them. 

By the white steeple of the church they flew. 
In the steeple was a little window. The bell-rope 
hung out. Jack jerked it as they went past. 

“ Ding, dong 

Something’s wrong’’ 

So spoke the deep voice of the old bell. He was 
a hundred years old, and such strange things had 
never happened in his life before. 

And the minister threw up his window and 
stuck his head out. And the minister’s wife stuck 
her head, in her nightcap, out of the window, too. 
And the sexton ran out in the snow, in his shirt- 
tail, to see what was the matter. 

And all the other people, in the farmhouses and 
in the town houses, threw up their windows or ran 
out of doors to see where the fire was. 


109 


Fifteenth Night 

Then, after looking all around the houses and 
barns and the haystacks, they looked up at the 
sky and saw Marmaduke in the sleigh, racing 
towards the moon. 

They were very funny, like little toy people, all 
looking up and pointing at the sky and all shouting 
at once. 

But Marmaduke didn’t care— he was having the 
time of his life ! 

Then a still stranger and funnier sight he saw, — 
all the animals on the top of the, hill— the horses, 
the dogs, the cows, the sheep, the pigs, the ducks, 
the geese, the turkeys, and the White Wyandottes, 
all sitting on their haunches and barking or neigh- 
ing or howling or squawking at Marmaduke, as on 
— up and up — he went, a-sailing through the sky. 

But he missed his little pet doggie. Where 
could he be ? 

He was worried about that until all of a sudden 
he heard a little bark and looked behind, and there 
on the red runner, hanging on for dear life, was 
little Wienerwurst. Marmaduke reached down, and 
picked him up by the scruff of his neck, and set 
him on his lap, under the robe, so that he wouldn’t 
catch cold. 


no 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


So Wienerwurst too had the time of his life, and 
his little pink tongue hung out in delight as they 
raced toward the moon. 

They hadn’t gone more than a hundred miles or 
so, when something strange floated past them — a 
cloud all puffy and soft and white, like the floating 
islands in the puddings Mother makes. 

The reindeer nearly ran into it. That would 
have been too bad, for the sleigh would have torn it 
in two. And as they passed, Marmaduke saw little 
baby angels lying there, curled up in the cloud, fast 
asleep, with their wings folded. 

A whole fleet of the clouds passed by and there 
was only clear air ahead of them, they thought, but 
no! 

“ Bang. ” They had bunked into something high 
up in the sky. 

“Very careless,” said Jack Frost, as he pulled 
on the reins. 

It was very bright, and Marmaduke blinked hard. 

Ahead of them lay another island, but this one 
was round and flat and shiny like a gold shield, 
with a little hill in the centre. And there upon 
the hill sat a jolly old man, round and fat, with a 
pipe in his mouth and a sack on his back. 


Ill 


Fifteenth Night 

“Hello, old Top!” said Jack Frost. 

“Good evening, you mischief-maker,” replied 
the Man-in-the-Moon. “ What are you up to now ? ” 

“ Oh, I’ve brought one of the little earth children 
to see you. This is Marmaduke Green. He’s been 
sick, so I thought I’d give him a ride.” 

“Oh, ho! That’s it. You do do someone a 
good turn now and then, after all.” 

Then the old man turned to Marmaduke. 

“Howdy,” he said, “I hope you’ll get better 
very soon.” 

“Thank you,” replied Marmaduke politely. He 
was so well brought up that he didn’t forget his 
manners, even up high in the sky. 

“ Well, here’s something to play with when you 
get back to earth,” said the Old Man-in-the-Moon. 
And he reached his hand inside the sack on his 
back, and pulled out a fistful of bright gold pennies 
—oh, such a lot of them ! 

Marmaduke reached for them. But alas! he 
was in too much of a hurry, and they spilled out of 
his hand and rolled right over the edge of the 
moon. Down, down, down, through the sky they 
dropped, past the stars and the clouds, down, 
down, down to the earth. 


1 1 2 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


There were all the animals still, on the top of 
the hill, looking up at the moon. And one of the 
bright pennies landed on Black-eyed Susan’s nose. 
She was a timid old cow and she was startled. 
And she was still more frightened at the howling, 
the barking, the squawking, which the animals set 
up, one and all. 

So frightened was she that she jumped. So 
hard did she jump that she leaped way over the 
hill and over the clouds and the stars. 

“There’s that critter again,” complained the 
Man-in-the-Moon. 

On, with her tail spread out behind her, and her 
legs sprawling in the sky, came old Black-eyed 
Susan, straight towards them. Jack F rost and Mar- 
maduke jumped back; the Old Man-in-the-Moon 
moved a little too. They were afraid she would 
land on their toes. 

But she didn’t. 

“She’s still pretty chipper,” observed the old 
man. “That’s a great jump. Most beats the record.” 

So it did, for she sailed right over them, coming 
down on the other side of the moon, hitting one 
poor little star on the way with her hoof, and put- 
ting out its light entirely. 


Fifteenth Night 113 

And down, down old Susan fell till she hit the 
earth and lay there, panting and mooing so loud 
that the people on earth thought it was thunder, 
and shut their windows tight for fear of the rain. 

“ Well ! ” said the Old Man-in-the-Moon, blow- 
ing clouds of smoke from his pipe, “that’s over. 
Now here’s some more pennies. Be careful this 
time,” he warned him. 

And from his sack he drew forth another great 
handful of gold pennies. How they did shine ! But 
as Marmaduke reached for them, Jack Frost jiggled 
his elbow with his icicle whip — and again they 
rolled over the edge of the moon. 

And again Marmaduke was too eager. He ran 
after them, and Wienerwurst ran too, and when 
they reached the edge they couldn’t stop them- 
selves at all. 

They were falling, down, down through the sky. 
A hundred somersaults they turned. Marmaduke 
tried to hold on to a cloud, but his hands went right 
through it. He tried to hold on to the stars, but 
he missed every one. 

Then suddenly— bang went his head against the 
church steeple - - - and all the stars danced - - 


1X4 Seven O’Clock Stories 

Then he woke. 

He looked around. Why — he was sitting up in 
the bed, his very own bed, by the red fire ! 

It was just a trick of the dream fairy’s, after 
all. 

But it was all right, for at the foot of the bed 
rested the little red and blue sleigh and the tiny 
reindeer, just as still as still could be. 

And at the side of the bed stood Father and 
Mother — and the Toyman. 

They seemed very happy. 


SIXTEENTH NIGHT 

SLOSHIN’ 

Of course Marmaduke grew well again, and 
back from Uncle Roger’s came Jehosophat and 
Hepzebiah. They came back in the old creaking 
buckboard with Methuselah the old, old white 
horse, and the Toyman. 

No sooner had they jumped to the ground than 
Marmaduke asked, very proudly : 

“ Where do you think I’ve been ? ” 

“ You’ve been sick.” 

Marmaduke shook his head. 

“ That’s not what I mean,” he said. “ I’ve been 
to see the Old Man-in-the-Moon.” 

“Now you’re telling stories ,” jeered Jehosophat. 
“You’ve just been in bed all the time.” 

“I’m not telling any stories,” said his brother 
stoutly. “ I tell you, I have been to visit the Old 
Man-in-the-Moon.” 

115 


1 


ii 6 Seven O’Clock Stories 

But Jehosophat wouldn’t believe him. 

“ That’s a whopper ,” said he. 

Marmaduke turned to his friend, the Toyman. 

“ I have been there, haven’t I ? ” 

“Where?” said the Toyman. 

“To see the Old Man-in-the-Moon.” 

“Of course you have,” his good old chum re- 
plied, “and a heap of wonderful things you saw.” 

The Toyman never laughed at the wonderful 
things they had done, nor at the marvellous things 
they had seen— no never, for he understood little 
children. 

Now Jehosophat had to believe him. He asked 
lots of questions, while Hepzebiah listened, her eyes 
growing as round as big peppermint drops. 

So Marmaduke showed them the little red and 
blue sleigh, and told them all about the little 
driver, Jack Frost. And he didn’t forget about 
old Black-eyed Susan’s great jump, nor the gold 
pennies, either. 

Jehosophat felt just a little jealous. Perhaps 
that is why he was naughty that day. 

And this is how it all happened: 

It was in the afternoon. Jehosophat was com- 
ing home from the schoolhouse, which was up 


Sixteenth Night 117 

the road about a mile, a long way from the White- 
House-with-the-Green-Blinds where the three happy 
children lived. 

With him walked four of his friends— Sophy 
Soapstone and Sammy Soapstone, who lived on the 
farm by the Old Canal ; Lizzie Fizzletree, who lived 
on the turnpike ; and Fatty Hamm, who lived by 
the river road. 

Sammy Soapstone had blue eyes and tow hair 
which stood up straight on his head. It was as 
stiff as the curry comb with which the Toyman 
brushed the horses. Sophy Soapstone had blue 
eyes, too, and two neat little pigtails down her 
back. 

But Lizzie Fizzletree had black eyes and hair 
that stuck out in all directions. She had more 
safety-pins on her dress than a neat little girl should 
ever have. And her stockings were forever coming 
down. 

Fatty Hamm was so round and so plump that he 
looked as if he had pillows under his clothes. And 
though he was only twelve he had two chins. 
Every once in a while he would eat so much that 
a button would pop off. 

He was eating apples now. 


n8 Seven O’Clock Stories 

One, two, three, four, five, he ate. He did not 
offer one to his friends, not even the core / 

Another apple he took. That made six ! 

Pop went a button and— splash— it landed in a 
puddle of brown water. 

For three days it had rained, washing the 
white snow away. The ruts in the road were 
full of these puddles, nice and brown and in- 
viting. 

Sammy’s eyes and Jehosophat’s eyes followed 
the button as it landed in the water, making little 
rings which grew larger all the time. 

“ Let’s slosh,” said Sammy. 

“ Let’s ! ” cried Lizzie Fizzletree, “ it’s lots of fun, 
sloshin’.” 

Into a big puddle marched Sammy Soapstone, 
and after him marched Lizzie and Sophy, and at 
the end of the procession waddled Fatty. 

“Slop, slosh, slop, slosh,” they went through 
puddle after puddle. 

Glorious fun it was. Showers of spray flew all 
over the road. 

But Jehosophat walked on ahead in the middle 
of the road. Hadn’t his mother told him, particu- 
larly, not to get his feet wet? 


Sixteenth Night 119 

“Come on in, it’s fine!” they all shouted at 
Jehosophat. 

“Aw, come on!” Sammy Soapstone repeated, 
and Fatty called : 

“’Fraidcat!” 

At that Jehosophat turned around. He just 
couldn’t stand being called “ ’fraidcat.” 

So slosh, slosh, into the biggest brown puddle he 
could find he went. 

Slosh, slop, slop, slosh l 

Over his rubber tops went the water. Fine and 
cool it felt. 

Splash went the water over the road. And he 
kicked it over Fatty till the round fat legs were 
drenched too. 

Then all the boys bent over the puddle, and 
scooped up great handfuls of water, and threw 
them over each other. 

It was a great battle. And when it was finished 
and they were soaked to the skin, they splashed up 
the road, shouting and singing. 

I guess they went into every last puddle between 
the schoolhouse and the White-House-with-the- 
Green-Blinds by the side of the road. 

They had reached it now. 


120 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


All-of-a-sudden Jehosophat felt very funny near 
the pit of his stomach. Something was sure to 
happen now. 

In front of the house marched Mr. Stuckup, the 
Turkey. His chest was stuck out and his tail 
feathers were spread out too, like a great big fan. 
He was having a lovely parade all by himself. 

“ Rubber, rubber, rubber,” he gobbled. 

Jehosophat looked down at his feet. He felt 
guilty— but he thought it was very mean of Mr. 
Stuckup to call attention to his wet rubbers that way. 

“ Keep quiet,” Jehosophat shouted. “ You don’t 
need to tell on me ! ” 

“ Rubber, rubber, rubber,” gobbled Mr. Stuckup 
just the same. 

Jehosophat kicked at him with his wet feet, and 
tried to grab the fat red nose that hung down over 
the turkey’s beak. 

At that old Mr. Stuckup’s feathers ruffled in 
anger, and he hurried off, still gobbling “rubber, 
rubber, rubber,” as loud as he could. 

Around the house sneaked Jehosophat, trying 
hard not to be seen. 

Half-way to the back door, who should he meet 
but a procession of the Foolish White Geese. 


Sixteenth Night 121 

By this time Jehosophat was not only wet clear 
through, he was angry clear through too, so he 
kicked at them. 

They stretched out their long white necks and 
called: 

“ Hiss ! Hiss ! Hissssssss ! ! ” 

They might be very foolish, these White Geese, 
but they were sensible enough to know that 
Jehosophat ought to have been ashamed of himself 
that afternoon. 

To make matters worse, the sun was shining 
now. He sparkled so brightly on the Gold Rooster 
on the top of the barn, that Father Wyandotte 
flapped his wings and cried to all the world: 

“ Look, look, look, look ! You’re going to get it 
— hurroo ! ” 

And all the White Wyandottes took up the cry : 

“ Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut— you’ll get it.” 

Jehosophat wished he were as small as Hop-o’- 
my -Thumb, so that he could creep through the key- 
hole and never be seen at all. 

But he had one friend left— little Wienerwurst, 
who frisked up to him just then, wagging his tail. 
He didn’t scold Jehosophat at all, partly because 
he was so often up to mischief himself. And then 


122 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


little Wienerwurst always stuck by his friends 
anyway. 

For a while nothing more happened, and Jehoso- 
phat tiptoed in at the back door. Mother was no- 
where to be seen, so over the floor he sneaked. 

At every step the water oozed out and slop, 
splosh, slop, splosh, still went his shoes. 

But he reached his room safely, then quickly he 
rummaged in the drawers of the bureau. 

Quiet as a mouse he took off his wet clothes, and 
put them in the darkest corner of the big closet. 
Quiet as a mouse he drew on the clean dry ones. 

But someone was calling: 

“ Jehosophat— Je-hos'-o-phat l " 

No answer made he. 

“ Jehosophat— Je-hos'-o-phat / ” 

No longer could he hide. So, making his face 
look as bold and as innocent as possible, he walked 
into the dining-room. 

But somehow, though he tried to look innocent, 
I guess he really looked guilty. 

“ Jehosophat Green, what have you been doing ? ” 
asked Mother. Her eyes were almost always kind 
but they were a little stern just then. 

Jehosophat tried another look on his face, for 



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123 


Sixteenth Night 

you can try different looks on your face just as you 
try different hats on your head. This time he 
tried the one that folks call “unconcern,” a look as 
if he had no troubles at all, as if he had nothing to 
hide. 

“Aw, just playin’,” he answered his mother. 

Then his mother asked a very strange question : 

“Where’s the party?” 

Jehosophat was surprised. “Party” sounded 
fine. 

“ What party, Mother ? ” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” his mother replied. “I just 
thought you were dressed up for one.” 

And he looked down at his clean suit and his 
Sunday best shoes. And from out the corner of 
his eye he saw wet places on the floor and muddy 
tracks, about as big as his feet. 

No answer now had Jehosophat. He guessed 
he would go into the parlour. So he sat down at 
the marble-topped table, and looked at the picture 
book which Uncle Roger had given him. It was 
full of great white ships sailing the blue sea. 

For a moment he almost forgot all his troubles, 
so interested was he in looking at those great 
ships and their sails and all the wonderful fish. . 


124 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


Then suddenly he remembered. 

He looked out through the door into the dining- 
room. 

Mother wasn’t saying anything. She was just 
busy. That was all. 

But had she forgotten? 

Somehow Jehosophat did not like the sad look 
on her face. 

He went and shut the door. He thought he 
would feel more comfortable if he couldn’t see 
Mother’s eyes. Then he sat down to look at 
the picture book again. But he felt more miserable 
than ever. 

Bang! he shut the book too. It was very 
strange. The things that usually made him so 
happy weren’t any fun at all just then. 

Then he looked up at the mantel. 

Above it hung a great picture. There was a man 
in a cocked hat. He had on a fine uniform and he 
rode a tall white horse. Jehosophat knew very well 
who that was. It would be his birthday tomorrow 
—George Washington’s birthday. The teacher 
had told them all about it that very afternoon. 

She had told them a story, too, about a hatchet 
and a cherry tree— and— a lie ! 


125 


Sixteenth Night 

The man on the horse looked down from the 
picture. The eyes were very stern. 

A lie! 

Yes, that was just what he had told to Mother. 
He had told a lie, and acted a lie. 

Though there was no one else in the room but 
the great man in the big picture, Jehosophat’s 
cheeks grew very red. A lump came into his 
throat. 

Now he never could be president nor have a 
sword— and ride a big white horse — and call “ For- 
ward March ” to the whole army. No — never ! 

To the window he went, and pressed his nose 
against the pane. The clouds were grey. It all 
seemed very dark and not at all cheerful as the 
world ought to be. 

Once more he looked up at the picture. 

And as he looked at the eyes of the man in the 
picture, they told him to do something. 

He decided to do it. And as soon as he decided 
he felt better — not all better — but better. 

And out into the dining-room he marched. He 
had to close his fists tight, for it is very hard some- 
times to tell people you’ve done wrong to them, 
especially if they are people you love. 


126 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


“ Mother,” he said— not very loud. 

She looked up. 

“Yes?” 

“ Mother— I ” 

He stopped. Mother looked up. She saw his 
lip tremble a little and wanted to take him in her 
arms. But she didn’t just then. He must tell 
what he had to tell, first. 

“ Mother— I told a lie— I got my feet wet— slosh- 
in’— and I said I was playin’ when I changed my clothes 
— an’ I’m sorry an’ — an’— I’ll never do it again.” 

Then Mother did take him in her arms and she 
kissed him and hugged him too. 

“Well — I love my little boy all the more for 
this. It was very wrong to disobey, worse still to 
tell a lie. But it was hard to tell me your own 
self about it and you were brave.” 

So she kissed him. And her eyes weren’t sad 
any more. 


SEVENTEENTH NIGHT 

THE CIRCUS COMES TO TOWN 

Mother Green and Father Green were fast 
asleep in the White-House-with-the-Green-Blinds. 
The Toyman was fast asleep too. Rover and 
Brownie and Wienerwurst lay curled up in their 
kennels, with their eyes tight shut. On their poles 
in their house all the White Wyandottes perched 
like feathery balls, their heads sunk low on their 
breasts. On the roof cuddled^the pretty pigeons, 
all pink and grey and white. In the barn Teddy, 
and Hal, and Methuselah, and Black-eyed Susan, 
and all the four-footed friends of the three happy 
children, rested from the cares of the day. Hepze- 
biah never stirred in her crib, and Jehosophat lay 
dreaming of something very pleasant. 

But the crickets, and the katydids, the 
scampering mice, and the big-eyed owls, and the 
little stars, snapping their tiny fingers of light up 
127 


128 Seven O’Clock Stories 

in the sky, and Marmaduke — they were 
awake. 

He had played very hard that day and he had 
leg-ache. Mother had rubbed it till it felt better 
and he fell asleep, but now it began to hurt again 
and he woke up. The Little-Clock-with-the-Wise- 
Face-on-the-Mantel struck, not seven times but four. 
It was long past midnight — it was four o’clock in the 
morning l 

But Marmaduke didn’t call his mother. He 
thought that it would be too bad to wake her up 
from that nice sleep. So he just tried to rub his 
leg himself. 

It was then that he heard that far-off noise like a 
rumble of thunder. But it wasn’t thunder. It was 
something rolling over the bridge down the road. 

Marmaduke sat up in bed and looked out of the 
window into the dark shadows of the trees. 

There was another rumble, and another and 
another. There must be, oh, so many wagons roll- 
ing by in the night. Then he heard the sound of 
horses’ hoofs on the road, the clank of rings and 
iron trace chains. 

He rubbed his eyes this time and looked hard 
out into the darkness. 


129 


Seventeenth Night 

Yes, he could see the tops of the big wagons, 
moving slowly past, under the trees and over the 
road. 

It was a strange procession and he just had to 
jump out of bed, forgetting all about his leg-ache. 
He ran to the window, pressing his little turned-up 
nose against the panes. 

Though it was dark still it must have been near 
morning. The moon was just going down behind 
the Church -with -the -Long -White -Finger, that 
finger which always kept pointing at the sky. The 
Old Man-in-the-Moon looked very tired and peaked 
after sitting up so late. 

There were so many of the wagons and so many 
horses. They must stretch way back to the school - 
house, and miles and miles beyond that, Marmaduke 
thought. 

The horses seemed very tired, for they plodded 
along slowly in the dark, and the drivers almost 
fell asleep, nodding on their seats. They looked 
just like black shadows. 

Under the axles of the wagons were lanterns, 
swinging a little and throwing circles of light on the 
road. 

Now and then one of the drivers spoke roughly 


130 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


to the horses. And sometimes Marmaduke heard 
strange noises like the sleepy growls of wild ani- 
mals. Perhaps they were in those wagons ! 

Then Marmaduke laughed. He knew what it 
was. They were circus wagons! The circus was 
coming to town! The Toyman had told him all 
about it, that very day. 

Once, one of the animals roared and the others 
answered back. Their noise was louder than the 
rumble of the wagon-wheels on the bridge. M arma- 
duke was frightened. But the roaring stopped, and 
all he could hear was the noise of all those wheels 
on their way up the road by the river. 

Then the last wagon passed and Marmaduke 
went back to bed and fell asleep. 

But the long procession rolled on and on till it 
reached the church. There was a large field near- 
by. Into it the wagons turned and all the horses 
were unhitched. 

Then the cooks started fires in the stoves on the 
cook -wagons, and all the strange men and women 
had coffee. And then, just as the Sun was coming 
up and the night was all gone, they went to work. 

Up in the centre of the field they raised three 
tall poles. They were almost as high as the Long 


Seventeenth Night 131 

White Finger of the Church. They drove many 
stakes into the ground. And around the tall poles 
they stretched almost as many ropes as there are 
on a ship. 

Then they unrolled the white canvas and, when 
the Sun was just a little way up in the sky and the 
morning was all nice and shiny and bright, the 
great white tents were ready for the circus. 

Back in the White -House -with -the- Green - 
Blinds, Marmaduke was eating his oatmeal. He 
asked a question that he very often asked : 

“What do you think I saw?” 

“Another dream?” said Jehosophat. 

“ No, it was real," replied Marmaduke. “ I saw 
a lot of wagons, hundreds ’n thousands, in a big 
line miles long. And there were wild animals in 
the wagons.” 

“ I’ll bet that was a dream," his big brother in- 
sisted, but the Toyman said : 

“ No, it wasn’t a dream, it was the circus coming 
to town.” 

Then Father spoke up: 

“That’s so, I most forgot.” 

He looked at the Toyman : 

“Frank,” he said, “I’ve got to go over to the 


132 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


Miller farm to buy some yearling steers. You’ll 
have to take the youngsters to that circus.” 

The Toyman didn’t seem worried about that. 
He looked just “tickled,” “like a boy himself,” 
Mother said. 

So, after dinner, old Methuselah was hitched up, 
and away they drove, — the Toyman, Jehosophat, 
Hepzebiah, and Marmaduke, with little Wiener- 
wurst, as usual, in back. He was very happy, 
barking at all the carriages hurrying up the road 
to the circus. 

They came to the field with the big white tents 
and were just going to turn in, when they heard 
music way off in the streets of the town. 

“Why, I most forgot,” said the Toyman to 
Jehosophat. “There’s the circus parade over on 
Main Street. In the big city they have the 
parade and the circus all in one big building, but 
in the country towns they have the parade first 
in the street, and the performance after, in the 
tents.” 

“Tluck, tluck!” he called to Methuselah, and 
jog, jog, jog, the old horse trotted into town. In 
Uncle Roger’s barn the Toyman unhitched him, 
and gave him some hay and some oats too, for it 


133 


Seventeenth Night 

was a grand holiday. Then hand-in-hand the 
Toyman and the three happy children hurried over 
to Main Street. 

So many people were crowded on the sidewalk 
that the children could hardly see. But Jehoso- 
phat ducked under the stomachs of two big fat men 
and sat on the curb-stone. And the Toyman held 
Marmaduke on one shoulder and Hepzebiah on the 
other. He was very strong. From their high perch 
they could look right over the heads of all the 
people at that great circus parade. 

Hark ! They were coming ! 

First the band. They were dressed in gay uni- 
forms of red and blue, with gold tassels too, and 
bright brass buttons. 

Ahead of them marched the leader of the band 
—the tall Drum Major. He had on a high fur cap, 
twice as big as his head. In his hand he swung a 
long black cane, called a “baton.” It had a gold 
knob on it, bigger than a duck’s egg. 

He raised the cane and the music began ! 

Trrat trrat trrat—trrat—trrat! went the 

little drums. 

Boom boom boom — boom — boom l went the 

big bass drum. 


134 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


hum — 


hum — 


hum — 


Hum — 

sounded the shiny horns. 

ter- loo 
ter- loo 


hum — hum! 


ter-loo 


Loo-loo-loo 

ter-loo-loo ! 

gaily whistled the little fifes. 

Then they all sounded together in a grand crash 
of music that made all the people happy and excited, 
and they almost danced on the sidewalk. 

And all the time the tall Drum-Major kept 
twirling that baton with the gold knob on it till 
Jehosophat’s eyes most popped out of his head. 

My ! how he could twirl it ! 

But other wonderful things were coming now, 
marching by very swiftly,— ladies on horses that 
pranced and danced ; cowboys on horses that were 
livelier still; a giant as tall as the big barber’s 
pole ; and a dwarf no higher than that tall giant’s 
knee. 

And great grey elephants, all tied together by 


135 


Seventeenth Night 

their trunks and their tails ; and zebras like little 
horses painted with stripes; and cages on wagons, 
full of funny monkeys, making faces at all the 
people ; and lions and tigers, walking up and down 
and showing their sharp teeth. 

Then something happened ! 

One of the circus men must have been sleepy 
that morning, for he hadn’t fixed the lock on that 
cage just tight. And the big tiger felt very mean 
that day. He snarled and he snarled, and he 
jumped at the bars of his cage. 

Open came the door. Out leaped that wicked 
tiger right on the street, and the people ran pell 
mell in all directions. 

The two fat men were so frightened that they 
fell flat on their stomachs. The barber shinnied up 
his pole, and hung on for dear life to the top. 
The baker-man tumbled into the watering-trough, 
and all the rest rushed higgledy-piggledy into the 
houses and stores. 

The Toyman picked up Hepzebiah, Marmaduke, 
and Jehosophat, hurried them into the candy -store, 
and shut the door tight. 

It was full of beautiful candies, — chocolate 
creams and peppermint drops, snowy white 


136 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


cocoanut cakes, black and white licorice sticks, 
and cherry-red lollypops. But the three children 
never noticed those lovely candies at all. They 
just looked out of the glass door at that tiger, walk- 
ing up and down the street, a-showing his teeth and 
a-swishing his tail. 

The tiger looked at all the people behind the 
windows and doors. They were all shivering in 
their boots, and he didn’t know which one to choose. 
Then he looked up at the man on the barber-pole, 
and he was shivering too. 

Then all of a sudden the tiger stopped. 

“ Girrrrrrrrrrrhhh / ’ 

He saw the butcher shop. 

The door was open. Some nice red pieces of 
beef hung on the hooks. 

He licked his chops and ran into the shop and 
jumped up at the first piece of beef and ate it all 
up. He never saw the stout butcher, who was 
hiding under the chopping block. The butcher’s 
face was usually as red as the beef, but now it was 
as white as his apron, and his feet were s hakin g as 
fast as leaves in the wind. 

But just as the tiger was gobbling the last 
morsel up, down the street galloped a cowboy on 



‘‘The tiger looked at all the people behind the windows and doors,” 




Seventeenth Night 137 

a swift horse. He stopped right in front of the 
butcher shop. 

Out went his hand. 

In it was a rope all coiled up. 

Around his head he twirled it, in great flying 
loops. Then he let it fly. 

And it fell around that wicked tiger’s head and 
neck, just as he was finishing his dinner. 

Then the circus men came with big steel forks, 
and they ran at that tiger, and they tied him all up 
in that rope very tight, and put him back in the 
cage on the wagon, while he growled and growled 
and growled. 

So the parade started again and all of the 
people came out of their hiding-places, all but the 
fat men who hurried off home, as soon as they 
found their breath, and the old ladies who said they 
guessed they’d go to missionary meeting after all. 
A circus parade was too heathenish. 

Soon it was all over, and the rest of the people 
hurried off to the field with the big white tents. 

And what they saw there we will tell you 
tomorrow night. 


EIGHTEENTH NIGHT 

THE JOLLY CLOWN 

Marmaduke was lost. There was such a 
crowd around those tents! He wriggled between 
lots of pairs of legs, but nowhere could he find the 
Toyman’s. 

Near the door of the tent stood a man with a 
big black moustache, and a silk hat on his head. He 
was selling tickets. The Toyman went up to him. 

“ Howdy,” said the Toyman. 

“ Howdy, pardner,” replied he. 

“ I’d like four tickets. Here is the money. One 
whole ticket and three half tickets too.” 

The man counted the money and gave him the 
tickets. Then the Toyman asked : 

“ Did you see a little boy ’bout this high, with a 
little yeller dog ? ” 

The man with the big black moustache and the 
tall silk hat shook his head. 

138 


139 


Eighteenth Night 

“Sorry I can’t oblige you, pardner. I’ve seen 
lots of kiddies but nary a one with a yeller dog.” 

“Well then,” said the Toyman, “will you kindly 
show these youngsters to their seats while I look for 
that little lost boy and his dog ? ” 

“Certainly, be most pleased,” was the answer, 
for all circus men are very polite on Circus Day. 

So the man with the black moustache and the 
tall silk hat called a man in a red cap. Jehosophat 
took Hepzebiah by the hand, and the man in the 
red cap led them into the big tent. He showed 
them their seats, and they sat down in the very 
front row. 

Outside, the Toyman kept looking, looking 
everywhere. There was no sign of Marmaduke’s 
tow head nor of little yellow Wienerwurst. 

They were on the other side of the tent, outside 
too, mixed up with men and women they didn’t 
know, and hundreds of boys and girls. They could 
see other men too, with striped shirts and loud 
voices, standing in small houses. And the small 
houses looked just like little stores, and on the 
counters were good things to eat,— popcorn, peanuts, 
crackerjack, and something cool in glasses, like 
lemonade but coloured like strawberries. Loud did 


140 Seven O’Clock Stories 

the men shout, trying to sell those good things to 
everybody who came near. 

But Marmaduke couldn’t buy even one peanut. 
He didn’t have any money. How was he ever 
going to get into that circus ! 

Oh, where was the Toyman? 

But he didn’t cry. You know he didn’t. He 
just shut his teeth hard, and winked and winked. 

At last Wienerwurst gave a little bark. He 
saw a little hole, and Wienerwurst always liked 
little holes. It was under the tent and just 
his size. Right into it he crawled. All Marma- 
duke could see of his doggie now was his little 
tail like a sausage. The rest of him was under the 
tent. Thump— thump— thump went the tail. And 
Marmaduke knew it must be pretty nice inside. 

Then the tail, too, disappeared. So down on his 
stomach went the little boy and crawled right in 
after his doggie. 

The tent had several big rooms and he was in 
one of them. On every side were big cages with 
iron bars. 

“ Girrrrrrrrrrrhhh 1 ” went something in one of 
the cages. 

That wicked runaway tiger! 


Eighteenth Night 141 

Marmaduke ran past all the cages very fast 
until he came to another room. In it were lots of 
queer funny people. 

He heard another voice, not like the runaway 
tiger’s, but one just happy and pleasant, though 
very deep. 

“ Well, look who’s here ! ” it said. 

That was a funny thing to say, Marmaduke 
thought, and he looked up. 

He had to look up ever so high. There was the 
tall giant, sitting on a great big chair. Big were 
his feet and his legs and his hands, and big were his 
chin and his nose and his hat. Still he didn’t look 
cross like the giants in 'the story-books, just nice 
and kind. 

Marmaduke stared up at him and he smiled 
down at Marmaduke. 

It was very hot and the big giant took off his 
hat to wipe his forehead. He set his hat down. 
He didn’t look where he put it and it went over 
Marmaduke ’s head and nearly covered him up. 
He couldn’t see any sunlight. It was all dark inside 
that hat. 

“ Let me out,” he shouted. And he heard some- 
one say: 


142 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


“ What’s in your hat ? ” 

“ There was a little boy around here,” the giant 
replied. “ Maybe I’ve covered him up.” 

The giant leaned down and picked up his hat, 
and took it off the little boy. Very glad was 
Marmaduke to see the light once more. 

The giant bowed low to apologize and the great 
chair creaked. 

“Very careless of me,” he said. “A thousand 
pardons, Sir ! ” 

Marmaduke felt very happy. It was fine to be 
called “Sir” by a great big giant like that. 

Then he felt himself being lifted up, and there 
he sat on the giant’s knee. The giant told him a 
story and gave him a big ring from his finger. It 
was so large that Marmaduke could put his whole 
arm through it. 

Then another voice spoke. It was a little tiny 
voice this time— no bigger than a mouse’s squeak 
or a cricket’s “ Good-night.” 

Marmaduke looked down from the giant’s knee. 

“Hello, little fellow,” squeaked the funny little 
voice. 

No, it was not Jack Frost. It was a dwarf, all 
dressed in a crimson velvet gown, with a gold 


143 


Eighteenth Night 

crown on her head. The top of the crown wasn’t 
even as high as the giant’s knee. My, but she was 
little ! 

Marmaduke was just going to say, “Little, huh! 
I’m as big as you are!” But he didn’t. That 
wouldn’t have been quite right when all these circus 
people were so very polite to him. 

So all he said was: 

“ Good-afternoon ! ” 

And the little tiny lady in the crimson gown 
gave him something too, — a silver button from her 
dress. Then the giant handed him over to a lady 
who sat next. A very funny lady was she, for she 
had a woman’s voice and a woman’s dress and a 
woman’s hair, too, but on her chin was a long, long 
beard, just like a man’s. 

The bearded lady kissed Marmaduke. He 
didn’t like that, she tickled so. 

He didn’t go very near the one who sat next. 
Yet she was a very pretty lady with blue eyes and 
golden hair, but around her arms and neck instead 
of necklaces were curled up snakes ! 

“ They won’t bite, little boy,” she said smiling. 
“Look out for the snakes in the grass, but don’t 
mind these. They can’t hurt you at all.” 


144 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


With that she handed him some candy. 

Marmaduke ’s hands were so full now, with the 
candy and the big ring and the silver button, that 
he didn’t know what to do. 

Just ahead of him was little Wienerwurst’s tail. 
The very thing ! So he put that big ring over that 
little tail. That felt so funny that Wienerwurst 
tried to reach his tail and that round shiny thing 
on it. 

Around and around he went in a circle, trying 
to bite it off. He looked as if his head and tail 
were tied together. Like a little yellow merry- 
go-round, whirling so swiftly after itself, was he. 
All the strange circus people laughed and cheered 
and the giant clapped his huge hands till they 
sounded like thunder. 

All of a sudden the ring rolled off Wienerwurst’s 
tail, and Marmaduke went scrambling after it. It 
rolled right near the lady — and all those snakes ! 

Marmaduke didn’t like that. He was glad when 
he heard another voice call out, very cheerily : 

“ Here it is, Sonny ! ” 

This was a very jolly voice, jollier than any he 
had ever heard in the world except the Toyman’s. 

The man who owned that voice stood before 


i45 


Eighteenth Night 

him, such a funny man, in a baggy white suit, with 
red spots like big red tiddledywinks all over it. He 
had a pointed cap all red and white too. And his 
face was all painted white, with long black eye- 
brows and a wide, wide, red mouth. 

This was the way Marmaduke met Tody the 
Clown. 

They had a long talk together and he seemed 
to understand little boys, just like the Toyman. 

“ It must be fine to always live in a circus,” said 
Marmaduke. “ Wish I did.” 

“Well, Sonny, when you grow up, maybe you 
can,” replied Tody the Clown. 

Marmaduke looked at the wide mouth with its 
funny smile. 

“You’re always happy, aren’t you?” 

Tody nodded and answered : 

“Sure — anyway almost always.” 

“Don’tyou ever feel cross or have any troubles?” 

Tody threw back his head at that and laughed 
way out loud. 

“Sure I do,” said he. “A heap of troubles, but 
I just think of all the little girls and boys like you 
that I’ve got to make happy. Then I try hard to 
make ’em laugh and ” 


146 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


“An’ what?” 

“Why all my troubles fly away, quick as a 
wink,” laughed Tody. “Yes, just as quick as I do 
this.” And quicker than a wink he turned a somer- 
sault. He turned a whole lot of somersaults and 
then he took Marmaduke on his shoulder and 
galloped around the tent and they had a glorious 
time. 

But the music was sounding out in the big tent 
just next them — drums and horns and bugles and 
fifes. The circus would start in a minute now and 
all the fun would be over. 

“Where’s your ticket, Sonny?” asked Tody. 

“I haven’t any,” Marmaduke explained. “I’ve 
lost the Toyman— and he’s got my ticket an’— an’— 
I can’t go in.” 

“ Don’t you worry about that. You’ll have the 
best seat in the whole circus .” And Tody turned 
another somersault just to make him laugh. Then 
he looked down at little Wienerwurst. 

“ But they won’t let any doggies in there. We’ll 
just tie him to this pole.” 

Marmaduke shook his head and tried hard to 
keep the tears back. Just one little one rolled 
down his right cheek. But that was on the other 


147 


Eighteenth Night 

side of Tody. Maybe Tody saw it anyway, for 
when Marmaduke said to him, — “Then I can’t go 
in either, my little pet doggie would feel so badly,” 
the jolly Clown answered: 

“Well, we’ll just have to fix it up some way. 
Can y’ keep him quiet?” 

“Quiet as a mouse,” answered Marmaduke, 
“ quiet as Mother Robin when she sits on her nest.” 

And Wienerwurst barked out loud just to show 
how quiet he could be. 

Tody spoke to another man. This one had on 
a bright red vest, red as Father Robin’s. He looked 
at the boy and the dog. His voice wasn’t as 
pleasant as Tody’s nor the giant’s, but what he 
said was all right. 

It was just “Sure!” and Marmaduke and 
Wienerwurst slipped inside the big tent, right near 
the front, where they could see all the wonderful 
things that went on. 

Wienerwurst sat pretty quiet on his lap and 
together they watched the elephants stand on their 
heads, and the men way up in the air turn somer- 
saults on little swings, and the ladies in bright 
spangles gallop round and round the ring, and the 
monkeys and the clowns do tricks— and everything. 


148 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


Tody was the funniest and happiest of all, and 
he made all the children laugh and shout and clap 
their hands. Even Johnny Cricket, the lame boy, 
who had come a long way to see the circus, smiled. 

Marmaduke and Wienerwurst were so excited 
that they forgot all about Jehosophat and Hepze- 
biah and the Toyman. 

After a while Tody turned a somersault, a cart- 
wheel, and a flipflop, and landed right near their 
seat. 

“ How would you like to ride on an elephant ? ” 
he whispered in Marmaduke’s ear. 

Of course Marmaduke answered: 

“Better ’n anything I ever did.” 

So Tody took him by the hand and led him into 
the little tent and put a little pointed cap on his 
head, just like Tody’s own. Then he lifted Marma- 
duke into a big seat on top of Jumbo, the big ele- 
phant. And out they marched under the tent and 
round and round the ring. 

Marmaduke could look down on all the rows 
of people. He was up quite high and their faces 
looked small, but he could tell Jehosophat, and 
Hepzebiah, and Sammy Soapstone, and Sophy, 
Lizzie Fizzletree, and Fatty Hamm, too. And 


149 


Eighteenth Night 

there was the Toyman walking around, looking 
everywhere for him. 

“’Llo, Toyman,” he shouted, and the Toyman 
looked up and saw Marmaduke in his little pointed 
cap, way up on the back of the big elephant. 

The Toyman waved his hand and smiled. I 
guess he was very glad to find that Marmaduke 
wasn’t lost after all. 

But Jehosophat was wishing that he had been 
lost, so that he could have had that fine chance to 
be part of the circus. 

Suddenly there was a chorus of barks. Marma- 
duke had forgotten all about Wienerwurst. 

He turned around to look for him and leaned 
back so far that he almost fell flop off the elephant’s 
back. Tody caught him just in time or there would 
have been trouble. 

The trick dogs were coming into the circus now. 
Some of them were walking on their hind legs. 

Marmaduke listened. 

There were so many different barks! Just as 
many as there were dogs,— deep or squeaky, smooth 
or creaky, rough or happy, gruff or snappy, and 
one that Marmaduke knew the very minute he 
heard it. 


150 Seven O’Clock Stories 

“ Run — run — run — run — runrunrun 1 ” 

Yes, he knew that little voice. He could tell 
little Wienerwurst’s bark anywhere. Somehow it 
was different from any doggie’s in the world. 
There he was, frisking and scampering and biting 
at the other dogs’ tails, just in fun. 

“ Run — run— run — run — runrunrun / ” 

And that is just what they did, right into the 
circus ring where the man in the red cap held out 
big hoops of paper above the dogs’ heads. 

The first dog jumped through one hoop, and the 
second dog jumped through another. Then the 
man in the red cap held up a third hoop bigger 
than all the rest. 

Another dog, a long tall greyhound, got ready 
to take his turn, but I guess Wienerwurst decided 
all-of-a-sudden that he wasn’t going to be left out. 
He just gave the tail of that big dog a little nip, 
and when the big dog turned around to see what 
was the matter, why Wienerwurst jumped through 
the hoop all by himself. 

So pleased was he that he ran round the ring, 
looking up at the people in their seats, with his 
little pink tongue hanging out in delight. 

A great doggie was Wienerwurst. 









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Eighteenth Night 151 

But soon it was all over and the people left their 
seats, and walked out of the tent to their homes 
and their suppers. 

Tody the Clown just wouldn’t let Marmaduke 
and little Wienerwurst go. He invited them and 
his brother and sister and the Toyman, too, to have 
supper in the tent. 

At a long table they sat, with Tody, and the 
big giant, and the little teeny dwarf, and the Lady- 
with-the-Long-Long-Beard, and the Lady-with-the 
Necklace-of-Snakes. But she put the snakes away 
and Marmaduke wasn’t afraid at all. 

Tody the Clown sat by his side and kept his 
plate full and his cup full too. He didn’t forget 
little Wienerwurst either. He had a nice big bone 
all for himself. 

But the time came to say “Good-bye,” which 
they did, to one and all of the kind circus people. 

Tody the Clown didn’t kiss Marmaduke. He 
just shook hands. Marmaduke was glad of that. 
He felt like a r.eal man now. For hadn’t he been 
part of a circus and ridden on an elephant! I 
guess so ! 

All Tody said to him was: 

“ Good-bye, pardner, you just keep smiling and 


152 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


make people happy, and you’ll be a circus man too, 
one of these days.” 

So the Toyman hitched up “old Methuselah,” 
and the three happy children rode home together, 
falling asleep in the buggy before ever they reached 
the White- House-with-the-Green-Blinds by the side 
of the road. 

When you visit that place ask Marmaduke to 
show you the silver button and the big giant’s ring. 
He keeps them still in his little bureau. But the 
candy was gone, oh, long ago. 


NINETEENTH NIGHT 


WIENERWURST’S BRAVE BATTLE 

Mr. Sun must have known that it was Jehoso- 
phat’s birthday, he made it so bright, not too sunny 
nor yet too cool. 

The three children, Mother, Father, and the 
Toyman, were all crowding about something which 
stood in front of the barn. The three tails of three 
doggies wagged as if they thought it was fine. Mr. 
Stuckup came to take a look. So did Miss Cross- 
patch and the Wyandottes; and the pigeons flew 
down from their house on the roof and perched on 
its seat. 

It was something for Jehosophat, of course. It 
was his birthday, and he had tried hard to be good 
ever since he had had that talk with the tall man 
on the white horse in the picture. 

It was something he had always wanted, — a 
little cart with a real live pony in the shafts. And 
i53 


154 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


the pony was all dressed in new harness, spick and 
span and shiny. 

Not very tall was the little pony. His ears 
twitched just on a level with Jehosophat’s head. 

Jehosophat put his arm around his neck and 
patted his black coat, which was almost as shiny 
as the harness itself. He looked at the tail. It 
was nearly a yard long and very thick. That pony 
was certainly handsome. And Father had given 
him— cart, harness, and all— to Jehosophat for his 
birthday, for his very own, to keep just as long as 
the pony lived. And that was the finest present 
any boy could have— ever. 

The name was a very important matter. The 
boys each had a dozen they could think of, but 
Mother and Father and the Toyman couldn’t think 
of any. At least they wouldn’t give any sugges- 
tions. They thought it was Jehosophat’s right to 
name his own pony. 

It was settled at last, — “ Little Geeup.” Where- 
ever Jehosophat got that name nobody knew. I 
really believe he read a story once about a horse 
called that. Or perhaps he remembered one of the 
circus ponies with the same name. Anyway, that 
was the one he chose. So it can’t be changed 


155 


Nineteenth Night 

now, any more than Jehosophat’s own, or Marma- 
duke’s, or Hepzebiah’s. 

A moment more they looked Little Geeup all 
over, from the black mane on his neck down his 
sleek back to his fine full tail. A moment more 
they looked at the little cart, its bright red body 
with the blue lines around it, the wheels and 
spokes, which were bright yellow, and the shafts 
and the whiffletrees, which were yellow too. 

Then they got in. Little Hepzebiah sat on the 
seat with Jehosophat. He proudly held the reins. 
Marmaduke sat behind, his legs hanging over the 
tail-board, with Wienerwurst wriggling on his lap. 

“Tluck, tluck,” called Jehosophat. Little Gee- 
up obeyed. The yellow wheels turned, and down 
the driveway they went, Father and the Toyman 
hurrying alongside, Rover and Brownie barking 
behind. 

There were lots of fine carriages out that day, 
but never so fine a turnout as that little red cart with 
the yellow wheels and the black pony in the shafts. 

Jehosophat didn’t have to learn how to drive 
Little Geeup. Father had often let him drive Old 
Methuselah when they went to town, and the little 
black pony was quite safe. 


156 Seven O’Clock Stories 

At last Father and the Toyman stopped and 
waved good-bye. So off the children drove, up the 
road by the river. 

“Where shall we go?” asked Jehosophat. 

Now Marmaduke was thinking over something 
Tody the Clown had told him— about making other 
folks happy. 

“Let’s take Johnny Cricket for a ride,” he 
suggested. 

The driver agreed, so they turned from the road 
by the river and drove up a lane. At the end was 
a house. It was a very small house and a poor one 
too. Here lived Johnny Cricket, the lame little 
fellow, who never could run or play like the three 
happy children. 

There wasn’t much furniture in his home, or 
much money either, hardly enough to buy him new 
crutches, to say nothing of toys that little boys 
like. 

“ Whoa ! ” called Jehosophat, in front of the gate. 

Then he got out and knocked at the door. 

It opened. Johnny’s Mother was there. 

Jehosophat took off his hat. 

“Good-morning, Mrs. Cricket, can we take 
Johnny for a ride in my new cart ? ” 


i57 


Nineteenth Night 

"Of course,” replied she. “ My ! Won’t Johnny 
be glad to go for a ride in that pretty cart ! He’s 
been very lonesome.” 

So out hobbled Johnny, all smiles. Crunch, 
crunch, crunch went his crutch down the gravel 
walk. 

“Hepzebiah, you’ll have to sit in the back with 
Marmaduke,” commanded the owner of the little 
cart. 

So the little girl climbed over the back of the 
seat and sat with Marmaduke and Wienerwurst. 
And they helped Johnny in carefully, and off [they 
drove up the lane, enjoying the woods and the nice 
warm sun. Johnny enjoyed it ever so much, but 
not more than they. I guess the three children 
were quite as happy, for to make others happy 
brings the best sort of happiness. 

At last they turned round and drove back. 

They were just trotting past the Miller Farm 
when they heard a great growl. 

Over the fields, with great leaps, a big dog was 
running. Now Jake Miller’s dog, Prowler, was the 
worst dog in the neighbourhood. Often the three 
children had heard Father say: “He ought to be 
shot.” 


158 Seven O’Clock Stories 

And there he was— running straight towards 
them, and little Wienerwurst had jumped over the 
tailboard and out of the wagon, and was trotting 
alongside. 

“ U rrururur, ’’growled Prowler. He had almost 
reached the gate. He was long and big, and really 
looked more like a savage animal than a dog. 
Pieces of chain hung from his neck and dragged 
alongside in the earth as he ran. He must have 
broken away from his kennel. 

Through the gate he bounded, then stopped 
still and growled in suspicion. 

“Out— out— out! ” he seemed to be saying. He 
thought they had no right in front of his home, not 
even when they were driving on the road, which 
was free to all. 

The three happy children and Little Geeup 
didn’t like the looks of things very much. 

“Here, Wienerwurst— come here,” called Mar- 
maduke. He wanted his little dog to jump back 
in the wagon and be safe. 

But Wienerwurst was no coward. Besides, he 
was a friendly little fellow, and liked to be polite 
to everybody, dogs and people too, even if some- 
times he did chase the pretty pink pigeons and the 


Nineteenth Night 159 

White Wyandottes. But that was just in fun, of 
course. 

So he just stood still and looked at the big bad 
dog and wagged his tail in a friendly way, and 
smiled. 

But that big bad dog Prowler didn’t appreciate 
that at all. He opened his big jaws and showed 
his teeth and gave a deep growl. 

“ Out — out— out!" he repeated. 

And then Wienerwurst gave his tail a wag, and 
advanced a step or two. 

Quick as lightning Prowler jumped at him. 

Wienerwurst didn’t run. Yet he was so little 
and the other dog was so big. And his ear hurt 
too, where the other dog bit him. 

The big dog was jumping at him again and again 
and biting him too, but I guess Wienerwurst must 
have heard Father and the Toyman tell the boys 
once never to start a fight, but always to stand up for 
one’s rights, and never to be a coward, or run away. 

That Prowler had no right at all to tell him to 
get off the road nor to bite him! 

And so, though he was only a yellow dog and 
small and weak, Wienerwurst barked bravely and 
tried his best to fight off the big dog. 


160 Seven O’Clock Stories 

It wasn’t a very happy chorus of growls and 
barks and squeals. It sounded something like 
this: 

“ Gurrrrr — gurrr — uh — ow — ow — gurr — gurr — ow 
— wuf—ar — gurr — ow — wow — uh — wuf — x x x — x ! //” 

Jehosophat pulled on the reins. 

“ We must stop that,” said he. “ Hepzebiah you 
sit here.” 

Out he jumped, but his brother was ahead of 
him, for Marmaduke loved Wienerwurst even more 
than they did. 

At the big dog’s collar they pulled, and they 
grabbed tight hold of his chain, trying to drag 
him away so that he wouldn’t hurt little Wiener- 
wurst. But he was very strong, that wicked bad 
dog. They couldn’t budge him at all. 

But just then they heard the sound of wheels. 
They were glad. 

Help was coming at last ! 

A wagon drove up. It was the country post- 
man, who delivered the mail to the farms, in a 
wagon. 

“Whoa!” the postman shouted— and out he 
jumped with his whip ! 

He ran straight for the big dog, and out of the 



“Quick as a flash the big dog jumped at little Wienerwurst.” 









1 
























































































« 


































Nineteenth Night 161 

gate ran Jake Miller too. I guess he felt ashamed 
of himself for keeping such a dog as Prowler. The 
two men grabbed the chain and whipped the big 
bad dog till he let go of Wienerwurst and ran back 
to his kennel. 

Tenderly the two boys lifted their little friend 
into the cart, and drove home as fast as they 
could. 

They forgot all about the pony and the fine 
new cart, just thinking of their poor hurt doggie. 

Mother and the Toyman brought water in a 
basin, and the Toyman poured something from a 
bottle, which coloured the water all dark. With 
a little clean rag he washed out the cuts on Wiener- 
wurst’s face and the back of his neck. 

Then out to the workshop he went and brought 
back a little can. He unscrewed the top and took 
out some of the salve inside. It was coloured just 
like peanut-butter and was soft and healing. On 
each cut he put a little of the salve, then wound 
the little doggie all up in nice soft bandages too. 
And Wienerwurst licked the Toyman’s hand to 
show how thankful he was. 

They made him a little bed, but he didn’t stay 
in that long. The Toyman was such a good doctor 


162 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


that Wienerwurst felt better already. Still he 
didn’t play very much that day. 

Mother sent the Toyman over to the Cricket 
farm to ask Johnny’s mother to let her boy stay for 
the night. 

He did— for three whole days — and great fun they 
had with Little Geeup, and the red dogcart, and 
the little lame boy, giving Wienerwurst rides to 
make him all well. 

And Father and the Toyman made Jake Miller 
chain up the wicked dog — very tight this time — 
with a chain that would never break. 

And soon that bad dog died, which was a good 
thing too. Nobody wasted many tears on him. 

But little Wienerwurst got well and strong, and 
chased the pretty pink pigeons— in fun of course— 
just as fast as ever he did. 


i 


TWENTIETH NIGHT 

THE LIONS OF THE NORTH WIND 

By the fire sat the Toyman. 

He must have been seeing things in the flames, 
for he kept looking, looking all the time. 

He was all alone, for Father and Mother Green 
had gone to town to see a fine wedding. It was 
not often that they stayed out so late, but this was 
a grand event. And they knew the three happy 
children would be safe in the Toyman’s care. 

They were all in the next room. Jehosophat 
and Hepzebiah were sound asleep— but not Marma- 
duke. He was sitting up, a little bit of a fellow in 
a big bed. 

Outside, old Giant Northwind roared and roared. 
Now he seemed to be running around and around 
the house, faster than any train. Now he stopped 
to knock at the door and bang at the window 
panes. Now he trampled on the roof, knocking 
163 


1 64 Seven O’Clock Stories 

off pieces of slate and a brick from the chimney, 
which fell, crash, through the glass cover of the 
little greenhouse. 

Marmaduke did not like the sounds cruel 
Giant Northwind made. And it was very dark in 
the room. To tell the truth he was just a little bit 
frightened. But he didn’t say anything at all. 
For the Toyman had told him always to be “game.” 
That was a funny word, but Marmaduke knew 
what it meant. A brave little boy must not cry 
even if he is afraid. 

Still the Giant Northwind kept running round 
and round the house with great leaps. And the 
windows creaked, and the trees thumped the house 
with their branches. 

Suppose the Giant should break in and carry 
him ’way, ’way off! 

The door of the next room was open. Through 
it he could see the bright fire. Higher and higher 
leaped the flames, as if they wanted to jump up the 
chimney and join the Northwind in his mad race. 

Very comfy and bright looked the fire. Very 
funny were the shadows on the wall, dancing and 
bowing to each other and jumping up and down 
like Jacks-in-the-Box. 


Twentieth Night 165 

One shadow was like a man’s, as tall as the 
ceiling. 

Had Giant North wind gotten in the house 
at last ! 

Marmaduke shivered and crept out of bed— and 
hurried into the next room. He kept as far away 
from that giant shadow as he could. But he never 
cried out. He was very brave. 

On and on against the wall he tiptoed towards 
the chair by the fire, where the Toyman sat, think- 
ing his strange thoughts. 

The Toyman felt a tug at his sleeve. He looked 
around. There stood Marmaduke, pointing at the 
shadow. 

That shadow was so big and Marmaduke was 
so small. 

“ Don’t let him get me ! ” the little boy cried. 

The Toyman reached down and in a second 
Marmaduke was safe in his arms. 

“ There’s nobody here but me,” said the Toyman. 

Loud the Giant Northwind howled and roared, 
while the flames leaped up the chimney. 

“Look there!” cried Marmaduke. “Thereheis!!” 

And again he pointed to the shadow on the wall. 

“The Giant Northwind has got in our house !” 


1 66 Seven O’Clock Stories 

But the Toyman only laughed, hugging him 
tighter. 

“That’s not old Northwind, that’s only my 
shadow,” he explained. 

Then Marmaduke laughed too. 

“Tell me a story, Toyman,” he asked, “’bout 
that ole Giant Northwind.” 

“ It might scare you,” the Toyman answered. 

Marmaduke only shook his head. 

“ Nothing makes me scared when I’m here," he 
said. He wasn’t afraid of giants, or ogres, or wild 
animals, or anything, when he was safe in the Toy- 
man’s arms. 

For a while he looked up into his face. The Toy- 
man’s hair stood up, all funny and rough. He was 
always running his fingers through it. His face had 
wrinkles like hard seams, and it was as brown as 
saddle leather from working outdoors. But Mar- 
maduke thought that nowhere in the world was 
there so kind a face, except his Mother’s. 

The Toyman put down his corncob pipe and 
began: 

“Once upon a time, long time ago, before your 
mother was born, or your grandmother, or your 
great-grandmother either, there was a King. He 






Twentieth Night 167 

was King of all the Winds. And he lived in a great 
big cave up in a high mountain.” 

“Was the mountain as high as the church 
steeple ? ” asked Marmaduke. 

“ Oh, higher than that— as high as a lot of church 
steeples, stuck one on top of another,” the Toyman 
explained. 

“Sometimes the King of the Winds took a little 
snooze in his cave, and then everything was quiet. 
But when he woke up he would go out of his cave, 
raisin’ ructions all over the world. 

“There was a lot of work for him to do, east 
and west, south and north. He tossed the branches 
of the trees and made ’em crack, and he made the 
waves in the ocean turn somersaults, and blew the 
wooden ships across the sea, and chased the cloud- 
ships across the sky. 

“And he had a lot of little chores too, like drying 
the clothes on Mondays, and waving the flags on 
Fourth of July, and sailing little boy’s kites high in 
the air. 

“When the King of the Winds was a young 
fellow, it was all great fun. But after a while the 
trees grew bigger and bigger, and the ships taller 
and taller, and there were so many clouds that he 


1 68 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


got very tired. He was getting pretty old and he 
ached in all of his bones. 

“ So he said to himself, said he : 

“ ‘ I’ll let the kiddies do the work, and rest for a 
spell in my cave on the mountains.’ 

“There were four of ’em— two boys and two 
girls— and each had a name, of course. Southwind 
and Westwind were the girls, Eastwind and North- 
wind the boys, two strapping big fellows. 

“So he called his children together and sat in 
the door of his cave. 

“ First he took a big pinch o’ snuff. That was a 
very bad habit folks had in those days. 

“ Kerchoo ! he sneezed, and blew two big clouds 
out of the sky. 

“ Kerchoo / / / he sneezed again, and turned up- 
side down a whole fleet of ships in the ocean. 

“ Kerchoooooo l ! ! / he sneezed a third time, and 
blew off the roofs from all the houses in the city, 
a hundred miles away. 

“When he was all through his sneezing he said 
to his children : 

“ ‘ Get ye out to the four corners of the earth and 
take up my business.’ 

“Now for a cane the old King used a tree with 


Twentieth Night 169 

the branches pulled off. He picked it up and 
pointed to the south. 

“ ‘ South wind, you go there.’ 

“She was a pretty little thing, with blue eyes 
and roses in her hair. And she answered him sweet 
as you please,— ‘All right, Daddy,’ and out she 
danced. 

“Then with the big tree cane, the old King 
pointed to the west. 

“ ‘ Westwind, there is your place,’ he said. 

“A very pretty girl too was Westwind, with 
kind eyes and a soft smile. Her voice was soft and 
low, and she answered in a whisper: 

“‘Good-bye, Daddy dear.’ 

“She kissed him on the forehead, and floated 
away to her new home in the west. 

“ Then the two boys came before the old King. 
The big tree cane pointed east. 

“‘Get to work over there, Eastwind,’ com- 
manded the old King. 

“Now Eastwind was a strong fellow, but he was 
surly and cross and he didn’t obey very quickly. 
So his father the King picked up his tree cane in a 
rage and whacked him across the shins, and out 
Eastwind ran, crying and yelling till the trees of 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


170 

the forests sobbed too. And he cried so hard that 
rivers of tears ran from his eyes and over the 
earth. 

“ Once more the old King picked up his big tree 
cane, and said to the eldest of his sons : 

“ ‘ Northwind, your home is right here in the 
North.’ 

“Bigger even than his brother was Northwind. 
Strong were his muscles, and his whiskers and hair 
were covered with icicles. When he breathed, 
millions of snowflakes danced from his mouth. 

11 Brrrrrrr I ! how one shivered when he was 
around. 

“Then the old King’s hand trembled and the 
big cane dropped to the floor. He laid him down 
in the cavern and breathed his last. He had been a 
great King but he was deader than a doornail now. 

“ So his four children took up his work. 

“Up and down the south country wandered 
Southwind, with her rosebud mouth and golden 
hair. And wherever she went she scattered posies 
and violets upon the earth. 

“ Back and forth over her country floated West- 
wind with her soft smile and gentle voice. She 
whispered lullabies to little children, and laid cool 


Twentieth Night 171 

hands on sick people’s foreheads. She blew little 
boy’s kites up ever so high above the church steeple, 
and tried never to break them. And she blew the 
white ships gently across the ocean. Folks liked 
to travel the waters whenever she was about. 

“But they didn’t like Eastwind very much. 
Sometimes he was all right, but usually he was 
bent on mischief, making trouble for every man 
Jack. The seas he would tumble about, turn over 
the ships, and drown the poor sailors. He would 
call his grey clouds together and they would weep 
till the rivers were full. Then he would blow the 
rivers over the banks, and spoil the gardens, and 
break the bridges, and drown the poor sheep, and 
all the rest of the animals too. 

“But the most cruel of all was Giant North- 
wind. Where his heart ought to be was a chunk 
of ice. Sometimes he was pleasant enough, but 
most often he was hard and unkind. He would 
breathe on people, and freeze their noses and toeses, 
and leave many a poor fellow stiff on the snow. 

“Northwind grew and grew till he was the 
biggest giant on earth. Most as tall as a moun- 
tain himself was he, and when he raised his arm he 
could nearly touch the sky. He kept walking up 


172 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


and down the earth, roaring and hollering fit to 
blow his lungs out. And how he could travel ! He 
could go clear around the world in about a week. 

“ One fine day he went out for a walk and he 
saw Mr. Sun riding up high in the sky. Mr. Sun 
was a strange sort of a chap, all dressed up in gold 
armour. The gold armour shone so bright you 
could never see his eyes or his nose or his mouth, 
when he walked in the sky. 

“Giant Northwind grew very jealous of Mr. 
Sun. He wanted that fine suit of gold armour, for 
all he had himself was his long whiskers and his fur 
coat of snow. 

“At Mr. Sun he shook his fist. 

“ Mr. Sun only laughed at him. 

“‘Ho, ho!’ he said, ‘Ho, ho!’ and again ‘Ho, ho!’ 

“ ‘ Ho, ho ! you say,’ mimicked Northwind, very 
angry, ‘soon you will laugh on the other side of 
your mouth. I will blow you out and people can’t 
see your fine suit of gold armour any more.’ 

“‘Ho, ho!’ Mr. Sun laughed back. ‘Just try it 
and see. Might as well save your breath.’ 

“That made Northwind very mad. So he 
took a deep breath until his chest puffed way out 
like a big balloon. 


173 


Twentieth Night 

“Then he let go. All the hills in the north 
country shook at that roar. 

“ And the clouds came hurrying out of the moun- 
tains and covered the sky so you couldn’t see the 
Sun and his fine suit at all. 

/“‘Ho, ho!’ laughed the Northwind. ‘Now you 
will laugh on the other side of your mouth, Mr. 
Sun.’ 

“Then he sat him down in his cave to enjoy 
himself. 

“But what was that! 

“ There was a little hole in the clouds. Through 
the chink he saw gold shining. Then more and 
more gold. In a few moments Mr. Sun was riding 
up in the sky, as big as life. 

“‘Ho, ho!’ said Mr. Sun, ‘who laughs last, 
laughs best.’ 

“Then old Giant Northwind grew madder and 
madder, madder than a hornet, yes, just as mad as 
Mother Wyandotte when Wienerwurst chased her 
into the brook. 

“ He took a deep breath, did Giant Northwind, 
so deep that he almost burst his lungs. He blew 
and he puffed and he puffed and he blew till the 
whole sky was filled with grey clouds. And you 


174 


Seven O’Clock Stories 

couldn’t see Mr. Sun and his fine suit of gold 
armour at all. 

“ Then down he would sit in his cave to enjoy 
himself for a spell, but by and by, sure as shoot- 
ing, Mr. Sun would come back again. 

“So, for a hundred years, Northwind tried to 
blow out the Sun. But at last he gave it up as 
a bad job. 

“When he was still a middling young fellow, 
only about a thousand years old or so, he went 
walking up and down the earth one night, just 
after dark. 

“He came to a great forest. In it he saw 
something bright, like a little piece of the Sun. 
Now he was taller than the tallest tree in the 
forest, so he got down on his knees to peek be- 
tween the trunks and see better. People were 
sitting around the bright little piece of the 
Sun, and warming their hands, and cooking their 
supper. Of course it was only a merry fire, 
but Giant Northwind was sure it was a piece 
of the Sun that had fallen on the Earth. He 
had been so busy trying to blow him out of the 
sky that he hadn’t noticed these little fires much 
before. 


175 


Twentieth Night 

“ But he had grown very cross as he knelt there, 
looking through the trees, and he said to himself, 
said he : 

“‘Ho, ho! That’s one of the Sun’s children. 
I’ll blow that out anyway.’ 

“And he took a deep breath and puffed his 
cheeks out. 

“ IV hurrrooooo ! he breathed on that little piece 
of the Sun. 

“But the little fire just laughed and leaped 
higher and higher. 

“So he took a real deep breath this time, till he 
filled all his chest, and it stuck way out like the 
strong man’s in the circus. 

“ tFhurrrrrrooooooooooooooo! ! ! ! he roared, but the 
little flames just danced in the air, as bright and as 
merry as could be. 

“ The more he blew the bigger grew the fire, and 
the sooner the people had their suppers. 

“Then for years and years the old Giant 
stamped up and down the Earth, trying to put out 
those little pieces of the Sun. And he couldn’t do 
it at all. Like their father, the Sun, the little fires 
just laughed at him. 

“At last Northwind said to himself, said he: 


176 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


“‘I know what I’ll do, I’ll get me some big grey 
wolves to put out those fires.’ 

“ So a-hunting he went, up into the biggest forests 
of the world, so dark that people called them ‘ the 
Forests of Night.’ And they were full of fierce 
grey wolves. 

“With his strong hands he caught a hundred 
wolves and drove them back to his cave. 

“Then one dark night when the people were 
sitting around their fires, so cozy and nice, he un- 
tied the wolves and roared out : 

“‘Wolves, put out those fires!’ 

“And the fierce grey wolves ran out of the 
cavern, and snapped and snarled at the little fires. 
But they couldn’t put them out. So back they 
came to the cave, with their tongues hanging out 
and their tails between their legs. 

“‘Good-for-nothings,’ roared North wind, ‘I’ll 
get me some tigers.’ 

“Again he went stalking over the Earth till he 
reached the great deserts, which the people called 
‘the Deserts Without End.’ Here he caught a 
thousand fierce tigers and drove them back to his 
cave. 

“The next night, while the people were talking 


Twentieth Night 177 

and singing around the little fires, he let the tigers 
loose. 

“ * Tigers,’ roared he, ‘ put out those fires.’ 

“They ran out of the cave, making a terrible 
noise, and they raced up and down the earth, with 
their sharp teeth gleaming, and their tails lashing. 
At the fires they snarled, and growled, and roared, 
and tried to beat out the flames with their paws. 
But they were only burned for their trouble. And 
so the tigers too slunk back to the cave, with their 
heads hanging down and their tails between their 
legs. 

“Once more the Northwind stalked forth 
and hunted through the highest mountains he 
could find, so high that people called them ‘the 
Roof of the World.’ Ten thousand lions he caught, 
the fiercest in all the Earth. He tied them together 
by their tails, ten at a time, and drove them back 
to his cave. 

“And he sent them out too. 

“‘Lions, put out those fires!’ 

“Such a terrible roar those lions roared that the 
whole Earth shook. Through the forests they 
raced, leaping through the wild tree tops, lashing 
their tails, and shaking their shaggy manes. And 


i 7 8 


Seven O’Clock Stories 


they leaped at the fires, but they couldn’t do any 
better. Those big lions just couldn’t put the little 
fires out. 

“Beside himself with rage was old North- 
wind now. So he sent them all out, wolves and 
tigers and lions wild, and he rushed on at their 
head. 

“ But never, never can they put the little fires 
out, so you needn’t worry at all.” 

The Toyman stopped and Marmaduke lis- 
tened. 

“Hark!” 

Yes, there were the grey wolves now, howling 
down the chimney. There were the wild tigers, 
snarling at the window panes and leaping at the 
door. 

Hark ! How the knobs rattled ! 

And there were the wild lions, rushing and roar- 
ing through the tree-tops. 

And round and round and round the house 
raced old Giant Northwind himself. 

But all the while, in the fireplace the little red 
flames danced merrily, never afraid at all. 

Marmaduke jumped. Something was whining 
and scratching at the door. 


179 


Twentieth Night 

Was it a wolf? 

The voice he heard was too small and weak. 

He knew who that was. 

“Toyman,” he shouted, “that’s my little pet 
doggie, out in the cold. Those bad wolves an’ 
tigers an’ lions ’ll eat him up.” 

So they ran to the door, the Toyman and little 
Marmaduke. And he wasn’t afraid at all. And 
they let little Wienerwurst in, and saved him from 
the grey wolves and the wild tigers and the fierce 
lions of the Northwind. 

Little Wienerwurst barked happily and curled 
himself up by their feet, in front of the warm 
fire. 

After that Marmaduke spoke only once before 
he fell asleep. 

“You never had any little boys, did you, Toy- 
man?” 

On the Toyman’s face was a funny look as he 
answered : 

“No, little feller, I never had any little boys.” 

Marmaduke reached up his hand and patted the 
Toyman’s rough, kind face. 

“Don’t worry, Toyman,” he said, “I’ll be your 
little boy.” 


180 Seven O’Clock Stories 

Little Wienerwurst was sound asleep, so Marma- 
duke just had to fall asleep too, happy and safe in 
the Toyman’s arms, by the little red fire that the 
wind could never put out. 


THE END 







































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